Survival Diaries
by Akino Ame
Summary: Children from some of New York's more prominent families are whisked away to a strange city where they must learn to survive their faults and corrupt society. Part of the Diaries Universe
1. End of Normal Days

_"We are writing this diary to prove to ourselves that either this happened or that we're all suffering the same hallucination. Well, assuming we come out of this alive. The path we take isn't going to be easy, but at least it's better than surviving Mr. Godwin's parties and the nuns at school. At least, it should be."  
__—The "Digi-destined"  
__Steve Smith  
__Michael Godwin  
__Lou Stoneheart  
__Sam Roberts, Jr.  
__Maria Sanchez_

Survival Diaries: New York, 2000  
By Akino Ame  
Part of Lord Archive's Diaries Universe. Used with permission  
Disclaimer: I'm far too poor to own Digimon. Accept that for the whole fic.  
Entry One: "End of Normal Days"

The gorilla climbed to the top of the Empire State Building with everyone below watching in terror. The New York National Guard held up their rifles but didn't dare fire. Why, the boy didn't know. This was just too unreal for him, something out of one of his father's movies rather than an interruption in school.

"It's like that old movie," gaped the bespectacled boy beside him, as though reading his mind. "But, then nothing could keep the military from shooting." Trust Steve to have all that random trivia knowledge. "What's stopping them?"

The loud whirring of propellers sounded through the air. An American Indian boy pointed as three helicopters triumphantly roared in the sky, charging into battle like the knights of old.

"Look!" he shouted. "That's probably what they're waiting for!"

But he couldn't see. His Native American friend could and Steve could, but he couldn't. A nun was eclipsing his view while a terrified little girl clung to her leg and a nine-year-old African-American boy watched the event in anticipation just ahead of the two. He envied how this boy could get past Sister Margaret without getting in trouble. But then again, who was really watching the children? Everyone's eyes were on the display in the sky.

He stood on his toes and tried to get a better view before his friends scooted aside to give him room. He managed to get out a quick "Thanks, Steve, thanks, Lou" before it happened. The helicopters exploded suddenly from some kind of blast. And if he didn't know better, he'd swear it came from the gorilla—

"Michael!" a woman's voice shouted. "Michael Patrick Godwin, wake up now!"

The boy yawned, stretched, and got out of bed. Eleven years old with light gold hair and blue eyes, he was almost the spitting image of his father, the famous movie and television star Brandon Godwin. But Michael was far from being merely his father's son. He was a perfect Boy Scout, merit badges and all, and almost every bit the stereotype of a good Catholic schoolboy. He was the kind of boy every mother wanted her daughter to bring home: innocent but not too naïve, studious but not too much so, and willing to lend a hand to anyone in any kind of distress. It was hard to believe he was Brandon Godwin's son. The man was a Casanova with crude humor, too much of a taste for alcohol, and far too many parties. The boy was polite and kind to women, tried his hardest not to laugh at even the funniest of objectionable jokes, hated the smell of alcohol, and locked himself in his room to study when parties were thrown. In fact, he was embarrassed by his father's lifestyle. That was one thing that he had in common with most children: his father humiliated him.

They lived in a penthouse in Manhattan—just them and their housekeeper/cook, Felicia Llewelyn. She had been the Godwins' housekeeper for eight years now and was practically a mother to him. Or as close to a mother as he could get since his own had remarried three times without expressing the slightest bit of interest in him.

Hollywood romances. What did you expect? Not the fairy-tale "happily ever after" endings the parents of some of Michael's friends had. He didn't envy them, per se, but he did enjoy spending time at their houses, watching the familial functions and dysfunctions.

"Michael!" the voice cried again.

"In a minute!" he replied. "I'm getting dressed!"

The voice muttered something about his waking up late being the cause of his constant insomnia. He just smiled and laughed softly to himself. Felicia had a habit of teasing him lightly, even if it sounded insulting to others.

Finally through putting on his uniform, he pulled on his shoes to hear the phone ring. On the other end was his best friend Steve.

"Steve, why'd you call?"

"Can't a guy call his friend before school? If this is the way you'll be in college, you'll just have to tell your roommate not to have any phone calls before class. Besides, I'm getting ready. I've eaten breakfast and I'm decent." Decent, for Steve, meant he had his pants on at least.

"So what is it?"

"Wanted to let you know that I have that CD ready for you. Burned it last night—and legally, mind you. I don't need you spurting off Scripture. I used one of the download systems where you pay. So you'll owe me about $7.35, I think."

"I'll give you the money on the way to school."

"Okay, and I'll give you the CD. Bring your player so you can listen to it on the way."

Had this been a face-to-face conversation, Michael would have been staring at Steve in horror right now. "Steve, I can't. It's against the rules…"

"Michael, it's okay. It's all right if the temptation is there so long as you resist it. At least, I think that's what Father Tom was getting at during Mass. I was kind of comparing how close Judaism and Christianity are. Amazing how just one man makes all the difference."

"Steve, I'll never understand you, you know that?"

"That's what makes me an individual. See you on the way to class."

"See ya."

Steve Smith yawned and hung up his phone. Class clown, otaku, geek, and role-player all rolled up into one, he seemed an unlikely candidate to be Michael Godwin's best friend. But his fun-loving personality helped Michael lighten up in life, and it tended to annoy his relatives. His parents had urged him to be an individual in order to succeed in business, and he had taken the matter a little too much to heart. For example, he was 75-percent Jewish, practiced the Jewish faith, and enrolled in a Catholic school because he liked to keep an open mind to other religions. His British heritage inherited from his grandfather shone brightly, inciting animosity from extended family members. He didn't care though—Heaven forbid he should actually care what closed-minded people thought—and kept with his role. Clown. Otaku. Geek. Role-player. All-around fun guy.

He put Michael's CD in a case before slipping it in his book bag along with his CDs and player, some manga, a few other books (mainly Lovecraft and _Dragonlance_), and his school things. He then added a Pop Tart to eat on the way and changed into the rest of his uniform. He hoped his friend liked the compilation: everything from Utada Hikaru to Yuki Kajiura to Dir en Grey to the Pillows. J-pop and J-rock tunes he picked carefully and scanned lyrics of so that Michael wouldn't hear anything embarrassing. He didn't really care what his relatives thought of him, but his friend's opinions did matter. Family never left—they couldn't, but friends could and did. He didn't want to risk it.

"Steve?" his father asked, knocking on the door. "I'm leaving early for work, and your mom's already gone. I want you to start heading off to school now. No TV—you run late every time you watch your cartoons." Steve didn't even bother muttering that anime was a lot more mature than most American cartoons; his father would just brush it away anyway. "So get your shoes on and go."

"Okay, Dad."

Slipping out his shoes and running out the door, he managed to catch one of his other friends, Samuel "Sam" Roberts, Jr., stalking angrily out of the adjacent apartment. The ten-year-old African-American barely noticed him and therefore bumped his arm as he walked past.

"Hey, Sam, watch it."

"Oh. Sorry, Steve."

"It's okay. What's up with you? I've never seen you this angry before."

Sam sighed. "Nothing more than the usual father-son bonding moments."

Steve knew what that meant and winced. Sam's father had bought his first franchise of the McWonder fast food chain at eighteen and now owned a dozen McWonder restaurants. "Father-son bonding" meant he was trying to instill the work ethic in his son, trying to get him to succeed in life. But Sam just wanted to be a regular kid.

"I'm ten years old," he continued. "Right now, my money's spent on videogames like any normal kid. I don't want to get it in stocks and bonds so I can have enough to start my own business. That's too far off for me."

"So what are you going to do?" Steve asked. Sam shrugged.

"I'll know it when I find it. Anyway, we'd better get to school. Lou's waiting for me outside probably."

"Oh yeah," Steve recalled. "I'm supposed to meet Michael on the way." He pulled out his snack and broke off a piece. "Pop Tart?"

Sam looked at him as if he was crazy (which he probably was, he decided). "No thanks. That stuff's disgusting."

Steve shrugged. "To each his own." With that, he took a bite into the iced strawberry pastry and continued his walk out to the streets of New York.

-------  
Eleven-year-old Lou Stoneheart tried desperately to pay attention to his social studies, but he found it all the more difficult as the class progressed. To the other students, this seemed easy for him: the progress of racial minorities in society today. Five paragraphs, each with at least three sentences. And he was an American Indian from a pretty wealthy family, now enrolled in a private Catholic school. There was an example, good enough for at least two paragraphs.

He held his head in his hand as he stared at his notebook paper, trying to concentrate in spite of his emotions. The red-orange headband holding back his shoulder-length black hair (both allowed only for cultural reasons) felt almost damp with sweat. Why oh why did he have to have this topic? What could he say? "You can buy cheap cigarettes on their lands"? "They make their money with whores and gambling"?

He felt sick.

"Louis?" Sister Margaret checked, coming up to him. He began to feel even worse; of all of King of Kings Parochial School's nuns, Sister Margaret Andrews was the most severe. If she saw that he wasn't working, he knew what kind of punishment he was getting.

And it wasn't exactly fun getting paddled by the priest, especially at eleven.

"Louis?" she called again, observing his cold, clammy sweat and the greenish tint to his tan skin. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, Sister Margaret," he answered quickly—a little too quickly. She placed a hand on his forehead, and he began to blush brightly. This was even more embarrassing than the paddle.

"You don't feel warm, but I don't want to take any chances. Go to the clinic and lie down." She gave him a pass and sent him on his way, allowing him to forget the assignment for the moment.

Sister Cecilia Brown, a nun and a nurse, was in charge of King of Kings' student clinic. She had seen all sorts of sicknesses the kids faked in order to get out of a class. With all of this experience, she knew who was really sick and who needed the paddle.

One of her frequent visitors was Louis Stoneheart, a young descendent of the Paiute nation of Nevada, and despite the fact that his family gained their wealth from running casinos in Vegas, he was pure and innocent—a complete foil to their sinful origins. He never wanted to cause any trouble, so he kept to himself. Sister Cecilia supposed this was why he was sick so often: The stress was too much for him.

He came in once again with a stomachache, and so she asked him to wait outside the resting room. Father Tom had found another patient and needed to help her get situated first. Lou nodded and sat down, submissive and quiet as always. Sister Cecilia shook her head. Couldn't he just scream or yell or swear just once? Just once to show that he was going to be okay?

_May the Lord watch over and heal him,_ she prayed silently.

Inside, Father Thomas Sullivan laid a seven-year-old girl on a bed. While at Communion practice, she'd fainted from the strong incense. Old Father Montag, the pastor, had burned a little too much, his failing eyes miscalculating the correct amount. Rumor had it that he was retiring soon and all bets were on that Assistant Pastor Tom would take over.

The girl, Maria Sanchez, stirred and slowly began to open her eyes.

"Maria, are you all right?"

"Father Tom?" she asked.

"Don't worry," he assured. "You just smelled too much incense. Father Montag is fanning it out of the chapel. You can try practice later today if you're feeling better." She nodded. "All right. You just rest for now and get better. I'll let Sister Cecilia know you're awake."

He stepped out of the room to see Lou sitting in a chair, his head between his knees. If he didn't get to the restroom soon, he was going to vomit.

"Father Tom, can you take Louis to the men's room?" Sister Cecilia requested. "I'm afraid he's too unstable to walk on his own."

"Don't worry," the priest assured, getting one arm around the nauseous boy.

Inside the restroom, Father Tom allowed Lou to lock himself in a stall so he could throw up without being watched. But for some reason, in between his vomiting and spitting, he and the assistant pastor managed to talk about some very important issues.

"Sister Cecilia says that you've been in and out of the clinic a lot," Father Tom noticed. "Is everything all right with you, Louis?" There was the sound of him blowing some half-digested food out of his mouth.

"I don't know. Sometimes I just get too tense and suddenly I'm throwing up."

"This isn't healthy. Have you talked to your parents about this? Or your friends?"

"No."

"You should. You can't keep everything bottled in anymore. That's what Sister Cecilia thinks is making you sick, and I have to agree. Promise me that you'll do something about it? Scream, yell, punch something—as long as it's not another person or living being. God will forgive you if you let your emotions take over."

"Okay."

"I want you to really promise."

"I promise."

"Good. If you break this, God will know and so will I. Now, can you tell me what it is that's making you so miserable today?"

"Father, I have sinned. I've broken the Fourth Commandment." Father Tom frowned. "Honor thy father and thy mother," the Fourth Commandment said. Another meaning was "Respect your elders."

"What have you done that is so disrespectful?"

"I should be grateful that my family has the money to raise me so well in New York and enroll me in this school. But I have lately been criticizing their methods. I…am ashamed of my family's legacy and the business my uncle still runs. I am angry at my family for running their casinos on our ancestral lands, and I find it hard to respect my heritage and my parents with all of what I know."

Father Tom was silent for a moment. This was a difficult one. The Stonehearts were notorious for running casinos and brothels, and poor Lou had to suffer through whispers and dirty looks his first years at King of Kings. But at the same time, he had disobeyed one of the greatest laws of the Bible. Just because his parents were sinners, it didn't mean Lou could treat them without honor and respect. The boy threw up once more, as if purging his soul of all the sins of his fathers and himself.

"Louis, I forgive you your sins, as does the Lord. Remember that although your family has turned from God, you must still show them the same respect that you would if they were less sinful. Go now and sin no more." He then stood up and left the boy in the restroom, heaving, breathing, and believing that things could improve. He then flushed the toilet and went to the sink to rinse out his mouth.

-------  
The three boys walked into the clinic during their lunch hour, all for the same reason: to visit Lou Stoneheart. He was Sam's friend and therefore Steve's and therefore Michael's. With that boy especially, Steve had suggested making a web of support so that the three could have somebody to talk to when they needed it. And with the way Lou had gotten sick again, it was obvious that he needed to talk.

Sister Cecilia permitted them to enter, waving them in as she typed on her computer. The phone at her desk rang, notifying her of a crisis in the kindergarten class involving the students eating glue. She dropped everything and ran for the class. The three boys decided just to enter the resting room and check up on their friend.

"Lou, you okay?" Sam asked.

"Sam? Steve? Michael?" he recognized, sitting up slowly. "What are you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were okay," Michael informed.

"Yeah," Steve added. "You looked pretty sick in social studies."

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "Just nerves."

"Hmm?" questioned a voice nearby. They turned to see a seven-year-old girl waking up to see four rather unfamiliar boys. "Who are you? Did you get sick too?"

"No, they're just visiting me," Lou explained.

"Oh. I'm Maria Sanchez."

"Lou Stoneheart."

"Steve Smith."

"Sam Roberts."

"Michael Godwin." His voice was low, anticipating the traditional reaction. He got it.

"Isn't your daddy the movie star? My mommy watches his movies all the time."

"Yes, he is."

"That's cool. My daddy just works at Wall Street. I don't know what's so special about working at that street, but he brings home a lot of money." The boys laughed. Of course a little kid wouldn't know what stockbrokers were. "So why are you here?"

"Lou got sick in class, so Michael, Sam, and I came to visit him," Steve answered.

"That's nice of you. I got sick and fell asleep in church. Only Father Tom visited me."

"Why'd you fall asleep?" Sam questioned.

"The smell of the incense. It made me sleep during Communion practice. So Father Tom said I could try practicing later today."

"You fainted then?" Michael guessed. Maria nodded. "Well I hope you get better."

"Hey, Lou," Steve offered, "why don't you come to my house for Passover tonight? It's the second night, so…"

"What's Passover?" Maria asked.

"It's an important holiday in the Jewish religion," Steve explained. "Jewish people like me celebrate it instead of Easter."

"Do you get chocolate bunnies and colored eggs?"

He laughed a little. "No."

"Doesn't sound too much fun to me. And if you're Jewish, why don't you go to a Jewish school?"

Steve was about to explain, but Michael stopped him. "Trust me, don't get him started on this."

"Well, anyway, why don't you come?" Steve suggested again. "You and Michael and Sam…"

"Can I come?" Maria questioned.

"I don't know," he admitted. "You'd have to ask your parents."

"I'll ask them after school."

"Okay," he replied. "Can the rest of you make it?"

"Probably," Michael answered.

"Sure," Sam added. "Besides, it's not like Dad's going to be worried about where I am. Your apartment is just across the hall."

"I guess so," Lou affirmed. "There's really nothing my parents have planned tonight for dinner. And I think they'd like it if I get out with my friends every once in a while."

"Then it's settled," Steve decided. "After school, I'll let my parents know. Just write down your phone number, Maria, so I can call you. And I'll give you mine so you can let me know what your mom and dad say."

"So we'll see you later, Lou," Sam commented. "Want us to bring you back anything for lunch?"

He shook his head. "I don't even want to try food right now."

"Okay, see you at the seder hopefully," Michael answered.

He and Sam had just about stepped out the door when the monitor of Sister Cecilia's computer began to glow and pulsate. He stepped forward with the intent to see what was wrong when light blue devices shot out to the children, burning in their hands. Each device beeped loudly and blazed, sending its radiance around a child. Without intending to, each child felt himself being brought closer and closer to the computer…

Michael opened his eyes to find he was lying in the middle of a river. He felt so lethargic; his limbs didn't want to work and his brain didn't want to think. Beside him was a large green frog with a red mohawk, just watching him. He didn't even have time to wonder what that frog was before he lost consciousness again. With a gesture equivalent to a shrug, the frog bit on young Godwin's blond hair and towed him back to shore.

**First off, major thanks to Lord Archive for the title. It drives me crazy when I can't think of one. The event at the beginning was not a dream—it'll come into importance later on in the fic. I did not create these characters—I think that was Archive's work. I just added onto Lou mostly. The nuns and priests are mine though. And though I haven't gone to Catholic school, my friend Kelly and my parents did, so they helped me out with the descriptions of King of Kings Parochial School. Yes, according to Kelly, they still use the paddle. And an odd little coincidence: Kyle Evanick had been considering using the New York team before I took it and he wanted to use the same idea of stress-sickness for Lou. Weird how some things turn out.**

**Now, after the embarrassment of "Southern Cross" one, I want to point out that whoever reviews must follow the rules at the top of my profile. I won't accept any reviews that consist of merely "Great job" or something of the sort. And be sure to write in a language I understand. No l33t, Japanese, or fangirl speak, okay? I'll work hard on trying to update, but with several other projects, I need to share time. Till the next, anyway!**


	2. Metropolis

_"Don't change color to match the walls. Look like you belong and the walls will change color to match you."  
__Kender proverb—Time of the Twins, Dragonlance Legends_

Survival Diaries: New York, 2000  
By Akino Ame  
Part of Lord Archive's Diaries Universe. Used with permission  
Disclaimer: I'm far too poor to own Digimon. Accept that for the whole fic.  
Entry Two: "Metropolis"

The city—Tal Veras, the grandest in all of this area of the Digital World. From the Crystal Pillars of Tallus to the sparkling Verasian Rivers, nothing still had matched the greatness of this city. Outsiders would immediately note the cloudy sky and imitation sun powered by the Central Core, but the splendor of the architecture and natural beauty would always overshadow this flaw. In the end, the visitors never cared.

Vamdemon smiled as he sipped his drink, his two deadly fangs glinting in the artificial light. He could not stand sunlight, but he'd had this created by the Central Core to please his people. It was enough for the light-loving Digimon to accept while it did no harm to the dark-dwellers. And there had been little violent confrontation between them in the past few years.

The city was all his. He governed it all, from the High Councilmen in the inner houses of wealth to the poor fishmongers on the outskirt slums. People obeyed him and respected him, never once trying to undermine him. There _was_ of course, a local anarchist, but he had no method of gaining any followers unless he wanted to join the other roadside prophets in promising doom for all those in the city. Other than that, life was good.

Suddenly, holes were torn in the clouds, allowing the sun to shine through. Vamdemon quickly backed away from the window and the horrid luminosity. He covered his face but still managed to see five shapes dropping from the true light to the city. And then, as suddenly as it happened, it ended.

Vamdemon scowled and dialed a number on the phone on his desk. "Get me the city guardians, now."

-------  
Heat. Terrible, skin-peeling heat greeted Sam as he came back to consciousness. A brief opening of his eyes ushered more burning as an awful brightness blazed at him. He shut his eyes quickly, feeling his tears evaporate on his skin. Heat exhaustion was setting in, clouding his thinking. Pretty soon, it would become heat stroke. One thing was clear to him despite all this mind-numbing heat: He had to get out of there.

He stood on unsteady legs and carefully tried to make his way to any place that was cool. That place was somewhere to his right, so he slowly wobbled over, trying to escape this literal hell.

"Baby Flame!"

A strangled cry escaped Sam as a weak fireball hit his back. He stumbled to his knees, lost his balance, and fell face-first to the smooth ground. A harsh voice ordered, "Get him some water, Agumon," and soon a dipper of cool, sweet water was pressed his lips. He managed to sit up long enough for the drink to pour down his throat and chin. Never had he cherished anything more.

When the dipper was empty, someone placed a pair of glasses on his face and ordered, "Open your eyes." Sam obeyed, mostly out of fear. His teary, blurring vision cleared, revealing a small orange T-rex and a three-headed man out of some tale from India. All around him in the room were savage flames.

"Why did you stop me?" Sam asked. "I need to get out of this heat or I'll die."

"If we let you go out that door, you would die," the three-headed man explained. "On the other side of that door is a large fan, adding oxygen and cooling the outside of the building. If you opened the door, the burst of air would increase the flames, and they'd head straight toward you."

"I'm sorry I had to attack you," the T-rex apologized in a mature voice that didn't match his height, "but I didn't know what else I could do. Strange though, your clothes aren't even burnt."

Confused, Sam looked to see what he was wearing. Instead of the uniform of King of Kings, he now wore a red T-shirt, tan khakis, and a red crystal cross around his neck. There were no chars present on his clothes at all, and his sweat barely showed. It was as if the heat was only an illusion to him. "Huh?" was all he could get out.

"You're obviously not from around here," the three-headed man observed, handing him a cool, damp cloth. "From the Real World, I'd guess if you're human like you look."

"Yeah, I'm human," Sam answered.

"Welcome to the Digital World, then," he replied. "Everyone you'll meet here is some type of Digimon or another. I'm Asuramon, and the little one here is Agumon. And you are?"

"Sam Roberts." He stood up. "What is this place?"

"This is the Central Core of Tal Veras City," Agumon explained. "We supply heat to all of the city, from the ovens in the bakeries and restaurants to the saunas and bathhouses to private homes. We even supply the light and heat of the sun."

"You power the _sun_?" Sam asked in disbelief.

"It's artificial," Agumon clarified. "Vamdemon had us make it when he came into power some years ago. It just made things easier for those who hate _real_ light."

Sam stared at everything in awe. This facility could power a sun. It was no wonder he'd been so hot. "How did I get here?"

"A man carried you in and asked us to watch you," Asuramon explained. Agumon seemed ready to interrupt, but a glare from Asuramon's red-masked "angry" face silenced him. "We know nothing other than that. We gave you water every ten to fifteen minutes until you woke up."

"Were there any others that man brought?" Sam checked. Maria, Lou, Steve, and Michael had been with him when he was taken. Perhaps there was a chance they were also here.

"No. You were the only one," Agumon answered.

"Oh." His voice couldn't hide his disappointment.

Asuramon tossed him a leather apron and gloves. "Here. If you're going to stay here, you might as well be productive. Go adjust the heat output to City Hall. Vamdemon will have our heads if it's too cold in there again."

"I'd think a vampire would hate the heat," Agumon muttered.

"That's enough of your smart mouth," Asuramon warned. "Go help Sam. And make sure he gets enough water, and not just when he's thirsty. He's not built to withstand heat like we can."

The dinosaur sighed. "All right."

Asuramon watched Agumon show Sam how to operate everything and explain a great deal about the Digital World and the Digimon. He made a mental note to ask the human later exactly what Agumon had told him. It wasn't that he didn't trust the Child, but there was no telling what a young and inexperienced Digimon could be passing off as the ways of the world.

And if he even touched the subject of the Digi-destined, he was personally going to make the little guy sorry he'd ever hatched.

-------  
If there was one thing that Steve was good at, it was blending in with a crowd. Gabumon could not argue with that. The young human seemed right at home in the city and was mostly ignored by all of the Digimon who passed them by. His friendly demeanor and optimistic outlook on things only further served to confuse the Child, who wondered how it was possible that anyone could be that comfortable in a strange world with completely foreign life-forms.

The boy was utterly and completely lost. There was no doubt about that. He'd been found near the site of an investigation led by BlueMeramon, a forensics specialist, and his apprentice, Gabumon. Though BlueMeramon had been upset at Steve's interruption of the investigation, he had Gabumon escort him to a local herbal remedy shop where Steve could get some minor medical treatment for some bruises and scratches he'd been found with.

And still, despite it all, Steve was far from depressed.

"Can you tell me where we can find Babamon?" the human boy asked a Setmon on the street.

"Old Lady Babamon?" Setmon repeated. "Yeah, she's at the end of the corner, the rundown-looking place. You can't miss it."

"Thanks."

"You confuse me," Gabumon stated bluntly.

"Why?" Steve questioned.

"You end up in this world from your own, hurt, lost, and searching for your friends, and still you don't seem to care."

"I care all right. I just don't get depressed easily."

"Why not?"

"It's just my nature. I can't really explain it." Gabumon gave him an odd look as he shrugged and kept walking.

In the meantime, not far from Steve's location, Lou lay facedown on the sidewalk as various Digimon passed him by, not knowing what had happened and frankly not caring. A brown rutile cross on a beaded chain pressed against his chest as he lay there, vomiting from sheer emotional overload. Unintentionally, he shivered in his brown suede jacket, its fringe getting pulled off as he tried to move. An orange-and-white creature hovered in the air over him, examining him carefully before turning and asking, "Maria, is this one of them?"

A familiar young girl in a black T-shirt and jeans ran up, her white crystal cross bouncing with each step. She replied, "Yep. Thanks, Patamon!" before helping Lou into a sitting position. "Are you okay?"

"Pretty much," he answered, trying to see if he remembered her name correctly. "Maria, right?" She nodded. "Are you?"

"Yeah. Patamon took care of me when I woke up."

"Where are we?"

"Allow me to answer that," replied a faked deep voice behind them. The owner had brown hair, glasses, and wore a tan trench coat over a white T-shirt and dark blue jeans. A crystal Star of David hung around his neck. And while he was happy to see him, Lou couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Can't you just announce yourself like a normal human being?" he asked.

"Steve, who is this?" questioned a horned reptile partially hidden by a fur coat.

"Sorry. Gabumon, this is Lou Stoneheart, Maria Sanchez, and someone I don't know. Lou, Maria, stranger, this is Gabumon."

"This is Patamon," Maria provided. "He found me."

"Found you?" Gabumon asked. "Were you unconscious like Steve?"

"Um, yeah," she answered, assuming the word "unconscious" meant she hadn't been awake. "I fainted, I think."

"If that's the case, we should also bring them to that herbal remedy place," Steve suggested. "Especially since Lou looks sick again."

"I'm okay," Lou assured.

"No, you're not, and you're coming with us to wherever Gabumon's taking me. Maria and her friend Patamon too." He knelt down and started trying to pick his friend up. A strain on his back later, he whispered, "Think you can help me out here?"

With a sigh, Lou got up and accompanied them to a shack at the end of the street. A warped old sign read "Herbal Remedies" in fading pink paint, and the front door was cracked open. Gabumon pushed it open all the way, and the humans and Patamon winced at the loud creak the rusted hinges gave out. In the corner, a Digimon resembling an old woman with hair over her eyes was crushing herbs in an earthenware bowl. Further in the back, one that seemed to be made entirely of rocks walked closer.

"Babamon, we have customers," he informed when he came up to her.

"Please take care of it, Gotsumon," she inquired. "I have to take care of this order for Mermaimon."

"All right." He walked up to the newcomers, though trying to ignore the three strange creatures among them, and asked, "Can I be of any help to you sirs?"

"Yes, please," Gabumon replied. "All three of them need to be treated for minor injuries, and one is sick with a stomach irritation."

"It's not as bad as you think," Lou protested.

"Aspa root serum ought to take the pain out of the bruises and minimize healing time," Gotsumon surmised, evaluating the children, "and neneshi paste should clean the cuts. But I'm not sure what for the stomachache, considering I don't know exactly what he's—"

"Lisualla mint tea to ease the stomach and a pinch of uialisho powder to calm the nerves," Babamon deduced. All the while, Lou stared in shock. "It was not difficult to figure out."

"I'm sorry," Gotsumon apologized. "It's unsettling when she does that, I know. But I have to admit that her empathic abilities help us find the right cure. I'll have these fixed for you in a minute."

"Offer these boys and the little girl the rooms upstairs," Babamon instructed. "They will need a place to stay, as will the Gabumon and Patamon."

"I already have a—" Gabumon started, but Babamon turned around suddenly and stared at him with unnerving clarity. All he could do was close his mouth and nod, as did Patamon.

"Young Lou will remain with Gotsumon," she continued, feeling around the floor for a tool she had dropped.

"Babamon, why?" Gotsumon questioned. "I hardly even know these people."

Upon locating her tool, she sat up and returned to crushing the herbs, her sightless eyes fixed on the wall. Yet to Gotsumon, it felt like she was facing him. "You will soon. In the meantime, I will require someone to fly these herbs to Mermaimon in the fishing slums. Will Patamon be able to do the job?"

"Um, sure," he replied cautiously, feeling that he had little choice in the matter.

"That's good." She got up from her chair and used her broom as a cane to guide her over to them. When she located Patamon, she placed a red messenger bag on him and told him the directions to Mermaimon's fishing shack. Realizing he had no way out of this, he sighed and took off, promising Maria he'd come back after a quick detour to gather his things from home when he finished the delivery. Meanwhile, Gotsumon watched on in confusion. True, Babamon had been kind to offer these newcomers a job and a home, but sometimes he wondered if her kindness was merely naïveté in disguise.

-------  
Mermaimon sighed as she looked at the meager catch of fish she'd managed. Half of it was to go to market and the other half was to remain with the fishers for sustenance. And from the looks of it, there was barely enough to live on, much less make a profit off of.

_Maybe tomorrow will have better luck, _she hoped, hoisting the net over her shoulder. _But now with that guy Betamon found, we've got another mouth to feed. What did he say he found? A Lucemon or something? Just hope that he'll prove to be useful with how we're going to have to feed him and with the medicine we had to buy for him. What kind of half-assed idiot angel ends up nearly drowning himself in the middle of the harbor? People get stupider and stupider nowadays._ "And now I'm starting to sound like an old geezer," she realizing, mentally slapping herself for sounding that old. "Just great."

When she reached home, she encountered the new delivery boy Babamon had hired to bring her the packet of medicinal herbs Betamon's new friend needed. She took the bag of herbs and paid the Patamon before entering her simple and unattractive hut. Somewhere in there, away from the water channels she used, was Betamon and the half-drowned new boarder they had.

"Betamon, I got the medicine he needs," she informed. "Looks like Babamon got a new delivery boy." There was no answer. "Betamon? Betamon, are you here? Don't tell me you're making me look like an idiot calling out your name and you're not here." There was movement in the shadows. She pulled herself out of the water and slid on the wooden floor to get close enough to see a blonde boy—had to be a Lucemon—wrapped in a quilt. He seemed quite distraught to see a mermaid Digimon. "Ah, you're up now. I got your medicine. You should be all right now."

"Are…are you the one who saved me?" he asked.

"No, that was Betamon. He should be back soon though from wherever he went. Anyway, here's your medicine." He took it from her, keeping the quilt around his person. "And quit wrapping yourself in that ratty old thing! Just because Betamon doesn't know how to do the laundry properly doesn't mean you have to take the smelliest rag in the house." She pulled the blanket away to a shocking sight. Instead of a half-naked Lucemon with shining wings, this boy was a wingless creature in a white-and-green shirt and dark blue jeans. A blue crystal cross was around his neck, and something ominously familiar was on his belt.

"Mermaimon, sorry I had to leave," Betamon interrupted, swimming in. "I got in another argument with Frogmon. Just because he's a level higher, he thinks that he's better than…" He trailed off for a minute, noticing his roommate's shock. "What's wrong?" He glanced slightly to the side. "Hey, the Lucemon's up!"

"He's no Lucemon, Betamon," Mermaimon informed. "He's a human."

"A human?"

"Furthermore, judging by the digivice he's wearing, I'd have to say he's a Digi-destined."

Betamon hopped up to them, watching the scared human boy carefully. "But those were just stories, right? They never really happened, did they?"

"What's going on?" the boy asked.

"What's your name?" Mermaimon questioned. "All humans have a name; at least, that's what the stories say."

"Michael. Michael Godwin."

"Well, Michael Godwin, you're currently in a hell of a lot of trouble if you're here." Inwardly, she sighed. Suddenly her simple fisher's life had gotten a lot more complicated.

-------  
Asuramon kept a close eye on Agumon and Sam throughout the entire first day, watching to be sure there were no accidental slips of prohibited information. But the day went by without a single comment about the Chosen Children, giving him intense relief.

_It's just not something I can deal with now,_ he reflected, opening the drawer to his desk once he had his break. "Never again." A clenched hand opened and placed a light blue device into the drawer before he closed it—something he'd been quick to remove from Sam when that man brought him. Sam could not be allowed to have it, that digivice. It would just prove to be his undoing in the end. And the longer this was kept secret, the better.

**To the reviewers: **

**Gray17: Yes, King of Kings was pretty traditional only because my friend's experience with Catholic school and my parents' experience is all I could draw from. And Father Tom was just trying to offer any kind of comfort he could to Lou, even if it was an informal confession. **

**Aerol Somtaaw: Thank you for the praise, but I have to admit that these characters aren't my creation; they're from the first of the "World Tour" episodes of _Zero Two._ **

**Scarred Dragonia: I can't really help with a future Chosen Children fic. I'm sorry, but my personal life has taken a nosedive, and I've really got too much on my plate to handle. Best to try and find someone else.**

**Knight of the Staff: I'm glad to hear that you're a Diaries fan, but we're all really busy with our offline lives. I mean, the oldest of us is 29 while the youngest is 17, so we have jobs and school to worry about. I think I speak for Misc, Rocker, Archive, Iap, and everyone when I say that we'd like to update everyday if we could, but it's pretty tough just getting these few chapters out. **

**To any other reviewers I missed, I'm sorry. I can't get everybody, since I like to try and keep my notes as short as possible. These were merely to clear up some misconceptions and everything. Now, for the real point of this:**

**First off, why did Steve remember Maria's name when Lou didn't? It's because Steve's like that: always trying to make an effort to know people. He comes off as very friendly (albeit a geek/otaku) in Shaun Garin's "Digital Diaries Adventures," and I hope I kept him close to that portrayal. And I admit that much of the concept of the city is based on Paradigm in _Big O_. The names of the herbs are combinations of Elven words I got from an online dictionary and some random twists I added on to them. After all, _Lord of the Rings_ is an existing book series in this world, and I think it would be a bit strange if Digital World herbs were named after Tolkien's made-up language. The idea of Babamon's herbal remedy shop comes from a similar shop in _Pretender: Island of the Haunted_, again with an empathic old blind woman. But Babamon has more in common with Methuselah in _Witch Hunter Robin_, I think so far. Anyway, if you want to leave a review, read the rules and whatnot. Till the next!**


	3. Little Indian Brave

Survival Diaries: New York, 2000  
By Akino Ame  
Part of Lord Archive's Diaries Universe. Used with permission  
Disclaimer: I'm far too poor to own Digimon. Accept that for the whole fic.

Entry Three: "Little Indian Brave"

Mermaimon and Betamon went to bed early, leaving Michael time to rummage through his surprisingly dry backpack to see what he had. Already he'd pulled out a couple of composition books and some class assignments, replacing them with strange stopwatch-like device he'd had on his belt earlier. It had flown out of the computer back in the clinic, so he guessed it might be important. He'd ask someone about it in the morning. Hopefully, it would lead him to his friends, wherever they were.

_Still here,_ he noted, pulling out his CD and the compilation album Steve had made him. Ironic as it was, the chronic insomniac used music—including rock music—to try and fall asleep. His father used to have dusk-to-dawn parties frequently enough when Michael was younger, so he'd gotten used to loud noise in the background as he slept. There were, of course, nights when it didn't work, leaving him watching TV or playing on the computer in the late hours; so he hoped it wouldn't be one of those nights. He turned on the music and lay on some tarps and reflected, _I wonder what happened to the others. I hope they're all right._

At that same time, Asuramon ushered Sam into a cool dormitory attached to the Central Core, informing, "This will be your quarters. You'll be bunking with Agumon. Lock up before you turn in." He then left while Sam blinked and Agumon snorted.

"Couldn't be nicer if he tried."

"What's wrong with him?" Sam asked.

"Who knows? He hates Vamdemon as much as I do, but he warns me to keep quiet about it. Sure, the guy runs all of Tal Veras and has the city guardians under his thumb, but mild criticizing shouldn't get him too riled up, not the way Asuramon expects it to. I guess Vamdemon did something to him, but he's not telling and I'm through asking. Come on, let's just go to bed." Sam looked hesitant, but Agumon replied, "Don't worry. We'll look for your friends as soon as we get a chance tomorrow." Finally, he nodded and locked the door.

Babamon and Gotsumon had been kind enough to set out straw pallets for their guests in the studio above the shop. Babamon stayed downstairs to sleep while Gotsumon was in the workshop. It was the middle of the night, and the only one still awake was Maria, who lay on her pallet while playing with the strange device she'd gotten in the clinic when they were pulled to the Digital World. Patamon was asleep nearby and made a warm and comfortable companion to hug, which eased off some of the homesickness.

"Hey," Lou whispered. "Can't sleep?"

She shook her head. "I miss Mommy and Daddy."

"You've never been away from home before?" She shook her head again. "It's different with me. Every summer, I visit my great-grandfather out in Nevada. He still lives on the family lands we haven't sold off. He takes me out camping, and we spend the whole night under the stars. I used to get homesick too, but when you're out there like that, it's just so beautiful that you can't feel sad or homesick."

She smiled. "It sounds nice."

"It is," he assured. "Maybe we'll find something like that here before we find out why we're here and how we get home." He was silent for a moment, letting them both hear something oddly akin to a chainsaw nearby. "Maria, think you can do a favor for me?"

"Sure."

"Kick Steve. He's snoring too loud." She giggled. "I'm serious!"

"Hey," the aforementioned culprit yawned. "What's with all the noise?"

"You're snoring," Lou answered. "You're keeping us up."

"That's not me," he protested, and right on cue, Gabumon gave off the loudest snore they'd heard all night, loud enough to wake himself up.

"Who's snoring so loud?" he questioned, and the humans burst into laughter. "What?"

"Just try and see if you can get something from Babamon for your snoring," Steve advised. "Or earplugs for the rest of us." Gabumon looked at him in confusion as they calmed their snickering. "Okay, let's get back to sleep."

Steve and Maria eased back into their dreams while Gabumon tried to stifle his snoring. Lou, meanwhile, put his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.

_Why were we brought here?_ he asked himself. _And where are Sam and Michael?_ He had the feeling he should pray, but for what? Sighing, he gave up on the notion and returned to sleep. Hopefully things would look better in the morning.

* * *

BlueMeramon was better at forensics than any other part of detective work. However, that did not mean he could not pick up on clues conventional detectives relied on. In fact, right now, he was eating his breakfast and scanning the streets. There were Digimon around that seemed to be out of place—either not fitting socially or acting a bit out of the ordinary. After all, when was the last time he saw a rich-looking Hippogryphomon asking something of a poor-as-dirt Jagamon? 

_It's got to be the city guardians,_ he thought somewhat absently. _They're the only idiots who can stick out like a sore thumb in the Middle District._

A Harpymon guardian pressed a V-dramon against a building. To anyone else, it looked like a random occurrence—a hit for money or something. But BlueMeramon was a detective on and off the job. Harpymon had her back to him, but he could read enough from the terrified look on V-dramon's face and the way he looked off to the west—over to where police headquarters were.

_Guess I'm not going to work today,_ BlueMeramon mused. Vamdemon obviously was investigating something, something that one of the detectives might have seen. Some of the others he worked with were on the street, and upon seeing what he did, they turned around and decided to take a day off from work.

_Looks like I need to do some investigating of my own,_ he decided, paying the check and walking out.

* * *

Lou woke up before the others that morning and walked downstairs to thank Babamon and Gotsumon for their kindness. Babamon was once again grinding herbs, and Gotsumon was setting up shop for the day. 

"You look a lot better," Gotsumon noted. "Did the tea help any?"

"Yeah, a lot, actually," Lou replied. He looked slightly embarrassed. "I don't handle stress easily."

"Being sent to another world would cause a great deal of stress," Babamon informed. "But you would do well to learn to cope with it better." Lou stared once again.

"I'm really sorry about that," Gotsumon apologized. "It takes some getting used to. Even I'm caught off-guard by it sometimes, and I've been living here for years."

"Is there anything I can do to repay you?" Lou questioned. "You're helping us a lot; I want to do something for you in return."

Gotsumon glanced at a message left on the counter. "Well, now that you mention it, we got an order for some fever-reducers in the outskirts between Shirazo—the Agricultural District—and Kreeviah—the Wildlands. I'd deliver it myself, but customers are going to start arriving soon, and the area's too far out of the way for the customer to come himself."

"I could deliver it for you," Lou offered. "If you give me a map, I'm pretty sure I could find it."

There was definite relief on Gotsumon's face. "Thanks." He pulled down a map from a cabinet behind him and handed it over. "All of the districts are labeled." He pointed to one on the easternmost coast. "This is Muiraba, the Middle District. Middle-income, fairly decent standard of living—even though Babamon and I are only _just_ there. You'll want to head all the way west, past the Central Core and the Verasian River Convergence Point."

Lou nodded. "All right. I think I can handle this."

Gotsumon put the medicine in a cloth pouch and handed it to Lou, who placed it in a messenger bag. "I'll let the others know where you've gone," he promised.

"If anything happens, they'll come for you," Babamon added. Lou looked a little confused and skeptical, but he passed it off as one of her oddities and headed off.

It really wasn't all that difficult to navigate once he'd gotten used to his surroundings. Tal Veras reminded him a lot of Manhattan, in a way. He'd fallen off the trail a couple of times due to the mazes the buildings created, but he managed to find his way back each time. Despite his blunders, he calculated it to take six blocks to get to the Central Core, and then he'd cut across or follow the river converge to get to his destination. But when he reached the Central Core and saw the transit system in place, he realized it was going to be a lot easier than he'd thought.

First, to understand the necessity of the transit system, it was necessary to understand the Central Core of Tal Veras. It was a massive bronze-colored industrial dome with smaller factories surrounding it. Walking around it would take far too long, and trying to navigate _though_ it was beyond Lou's ability. It was a maze, and Digimon bustled throughout, trying to begin the day's work.

_Yep, a lot like Manhattan,_ Lou decided.

As he looked upwards, he noticed signs pointing out the names of the different districts the transit system led to. None led to the wildlands, but the outskirts between it and the agricultural district had a direct line—and that was just what Lou needed. He checked his messenger bag for any money and came up with some odd triangular bits of gold and silver that he supposed were coins, and he went up to get a ticket for the transit.

"Interesting," noted a Digimon near him, one that looked like a man that had been set on fire—with blue flames. "I've only seen one of you walking around. Sent my apprentice off with him to get some medicine, and neither came back."

Lou felt very uncomfortable all of a sudden. He had this unshakable feeling that it was not a good thing to be human at this moment. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The Digimon seemed to get the message. "All right then," he answered. "But if there's any trouble, I'll be watching you."

Without even trying to sort out the currency, Lou thrust the money at the Digimon giving out tickets. He then took his and ran onto the train-like Digimon heading to the outskirts. Few others were on board, so he supposed that the citizens of the other districts of Tal Veras rarely had a reason to visit there. It was better that way, he reasoned. At least then, he wouldn't have to worry about too many people seeing him.

He sat down and rummaged through the bag again, this time finding the name of the customer—Dinohumon, who lived in a very small village recently plagued by several strange illnesses. Fever was the latest, and Gotsumon had added a warning to tell them to boil their water. Lou agreed; if their village was so close to the river separating the districts, then bacteria might have been infecting their water supply.

_Of course, I don't know if bacteria even exist in this world,_ he realized, shooting down his theory.

"Travelers to the Agricultural/Wildland Outskirts," boomed a loud, rumbling voice that Lou quickly realized was the train itself (_Now why doesn't that surprise me in the least?_ he asked himself), "we are about to depart soon. For those of you not used to traveling by Locomon, strap yourselves in tightly and brace yourselves." Lou did exactly as instructed. He didn't need a bout of sickness again.

Though he was restrained with the seatbelts provided and holding on tightly, Lou wasn't completely ready for the sudden burst of speed. He was gripping the seat until his knuckles turned white, watching the scenery pass in a blur. While it was fast, this was definitely _not_ his favorite way to travel.

_Note to self: find a different way back_, he reminded himself.

The good part about the high-speed train ride was that it was over quickly. Lou nearly got whiplash from the stop, and he was never so happy to be on stable land again.

"Are you the messenger from Old Lady Babamon's shop?" asked a voice. Lou looked over to see another Digimon, this one looking like a dinosaur-human hybrid in some kind of Native American garb.

_Guess you get all types, _he thought with some amusement. "Yeah. Are you Dinohumon?"

The Digimon looked relieved. "Yes. Please, come with me."

Dinohumon led him on foot to the village, where Lou noticed something wrong immediately. It seemed deserted, and there was a foul stench in the air that reminded Lou all too much of feces. They walked inside a house to find two almost identical small plant-like Digimon lying on the floor, looking absolutely miserable and partially wilted.

"Alraumon, Palmon, don't worry," Dinohumon assured. "We have the medicine."

"How long has everyone been sick?" Lou questioned as he started to take the pouch out of his bag.

"Too long," Dinohumon answered. "It started with the youngest and oldest ones before working its way up to the healthier Digimon. Only a few of us have managed to fight it off, and we've got to take care of everyone else."

Lou handed over the medicine and looked at the water pump in the kitchen. "Do you get all of your water straight from the river?"

"Yeah," Dinohumon replied. "We're too far out of the way to get a water-filtration system. We have to rely on as much natural filtration as we can."

"Boil all your water before drinking it," Lou advised. "There might be something in it that's making you sick."

"We'll definitely start doing that from now on," he assured. "The Verasian River's been clear for years; I don't know why it's suddenly not safe anymore."

"I don't know," Lou confessed. "Who's in charge here, anyway?"

Dinohumon gave him a deadpan glance. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm new here," Lou quickly amended.

"All right," Dinohumon answered, as though that was barely a sufficient excuse. "The Supreme Governor of Tal Veras is Vamdemon, who came to power through questionable methods. Below him are the city guardians, his personal army—so don't give them a reason to be mad at you. Then you have the major businesses and corporations—all the wealthy Digimon he has in his good favor. The entire island is governed pretty much by class, with the poorest living in the slums and fisher's district, Qumvèa. Second place comes either here or to the Middle District, and the Wildlands… Well, let's just say they're the last refuge against civilization, and they'd like to keep it that way."

"Why do all the districts go by two names?" he asked. "Like Qumvèa and Shirazo?"

"Shirazo, Qumvèa, Tallus, Kreeviah, and Muiraba are the old names for the areas, before Tal Veras was developed into the massive city you see now," Dinohumon explained. "Tallus, the High District, was a city of its own while the other areas had small villages spread about. Now the Wildlands are the only remnant of the old days, and really the only ones that still use the old naming system."

"Oh."

"Why so many questions, anyway?"

"I was just curious. And even though the rich make up the government, you should try and petition them to put in a water-filtration system here."

"There's no reason they should listen to us," Dinohumon answered.

"But if the river is causing this, it could cause trouble for everyone else in Tal Veras," Lou protested.

"I know that and you know that," Dinohumon replied. "But for Vamdemon and the others, it doesn't matter. All that matters to them is their money and their power."

"Sounds a lot like home," Lou remarked a bit more loudly than he intended. Dinohumon gave him a puzzled look. "My family's pretty much the same, except my great-grandfather. Sometimes I wonder how Granddad and I wound up related to them." He started to walk out when he noticed something happening in the fields across from the village. Three Digimon were attacking a scarecrow-looking one while another that looked like a jeweled insect watched.

"Not them again," Dinohumon groaned.

"Who?"

"JewelBeemon and his mob. They've been after the land here to develop it just so they can start making their way through the Wildlands. Nohemon owns a big part of this particular area, so if he sells, that's it for us."

Lou felt a sudden surge of mild guilt and depression as Nohemon's plight brought back a memory he'd have preferred to forget. He had been five years old at the time and visiting his great-grandfather on the last family lands in Nevada. He'd been there on his own while his father tried to close a business deal or something of the sort. He remembered having been upset that he had to go home, but it was nothing compared to what had happened when his father arrived with two men in business attire.

"What's this, Rob?" Granddad had asked. Lou had been confused at first, but now he was starting to feel a little afraid at the sound of his grandfather's voice. He sounded like a man who had just been betrayed.

"Granddad, these men are from the agency, and they'd like to…" Lou's father tried to explain.

"Force me out of my home?" Granddad guessed.

"You can come live with us," Robert Stoneheart offered. "It's no problem for Helen and me, and Lou would love having you around more often, isn't that right, Lou?" His father smiled at him, but Lou stared at him in horror. While it would be great to have Granddad closer so that he'd have someone to escape to, the family lands were important to them. His father couldn't just sell them!

"Daddy, why?" Lou questioned.

"Yes, Rob, tell your son why you are so eager to sell off his ancestors' legacy just so you can build another casino," Granddad demanded, his old voice full of fury. As angry as he was, John Stoneheart was definitely someone Lou felt a lot safer with right at that moment. "Is the only thing you will pass on to your son the allure of money? He has a past here—don't make him turn his back on it just because you and the rest of the family did."

Rob's face darkened considerably. "Granddad, you're living in the past. We're all moving on into the future. Can't you see that?"

"Can't you see that there is more to your life than money?" he argued. "How many nights have you gone into your son's bedroom and kissed him goodnight, even though you'd already done it twice before? How many times have you asked him how school was going and actually cared to listen? I know more about Lou from this past week than you do for his entire life time, and I know that this place is something he loves, and if you sell it, you'll drive an even deeper wedge between you two."

His father seemed to consider this because he looked at his son's tear-streaked face and declared, "Lou, we're going home. We're done here."

"You're not going to sell Granddad's home?" Lou checked hesitantly.

Rob closed his eyes and answered, "No, I'm not going to."

"And between you and me," Granddad whispered in his ear, "he won't be able to if he tries again. I'm leaving it to you when I die, so that you'll have a nice home to raise your family when you're grown up and married." Lou seemed a bit disturbed by this sudden talk about death, but Granddad added, "But don't worry. I'm not going for a very long time."

A shout woke Lou from his reverie, and he looked up to see Nohemon hit the ground.

"They're going to kill him," Dinohumon realized, quickly strapping on some bladed armbands and grabbing two swords. Lou was a step ahead of him, running out onto the field and to Nohemon's defense. "What are you doing? They're going to kill you!" But that didn't matter to him. He was not going to sit around and watch this happen again.

"You can't do that to him!" he shouted. The three thugs turned around, as did JewelBeemon. That was when the situation finally started settling in for Lou. These were four possibly very powerful Digimon, and he was a rich little brat from New York. He didn't stand a chance.

"I think you'll find that we can, in fact, do that to him," JewelBeemon replied, lashing out with his lance. Lou just managed to dodge it, but the blade caught his ribs, drawing blood. He clamped a hand on it immediately as he really started regretting being so stupid.

* * *

Babamon dropped her bowl of crushed herbs, spilling them across the floor. Gotsumon noticed this and quickly handed another customer his order before coming over to her. 

"What's wrong?" he checked.

"The boy's in danger," she informed. But before she could clarify, the rest of their houseguests came downstairs, arguing good-naturedly about something or other.

"I _wasn't_ snoring!" Gabumon defended. "I don't snore!"

"Then you've got the worst case of nighttime allergies I've ever heard," Steve replied in mid-yawn.

"Children!" Babamon alerted. "Maria, Steve, come quickly!" Hearing the desperation in her voice, they ran over.

"What's wrong?" Maria asked.

"Lou is in danger," she explained. "You must rescue him!"

"Where is he?" Steve questioned, more serious now than he usually was.

"He went out to deliver medicine to a village on the outskirts of the Wildlands," Gotsumon answered. "I can show you where it is."

"All of you need to go now," Babamon warned. "Get there as quickly as you can."

"Let's go," Steve urged, bustling out the door and past a startled customer.

Gotsumon led them running through the streets, but it was obvious to everyone that they'd never make it in time at this rate. Maria and Patamon, being the smallest, were quickly lagging behind, and Steve, who was never the most athletic person in the world, felt his body starting to give out rather early on too. As he kept trying to pull himself on, he kept thinking, _There's__ got to be an easier way to do this_, until finally, he saw it: a giant firebird perched atop a building.

"That's it," he realized.

"What are you doing?" Gotsumon demanded as the boy ran toward the Birdramon with renewed vigor.

Steve shouted and waved his arms around, finally getting the Digimon's attention. The irritated Birdramon then asked, "What do you want, kid?"

"We need you to fly us across the island," he demanded of her. "It's an emergency."

"Look, kid," she replied, "I don't care what it is. I'm not doing it."

"Well, how much can I pay you?" he asked.

"You're just not getting it," she groaned. "It's not about money; it's the principle of the thing. I don't have to ferry anyone around. I'm a free Digimon, and I'm happy to have it this way."

"Listen," Steve growled, surprising everyone with his roughness. "My _friend_ is about to die if we don't go help him now, and unfortunately, he's on the other side of the island. You're the only one around that can help me get to him, or can I get the police to see if this counts as being an accessory to murder?" He pointed to Gabumon. "He's with the force, you know."

Birdramon considered her options, then sighed and lowered a wing. "Fine," she muttered. "Just tell me where it is you need to go. But you're finding your own way back."

"Good," Steve replied, his voice and face not losing any of their anger.

They flew at Birdramon's top speed, following Gotsumon's directions to the village. Down below, they could see the beginning of an already violent battle. Three Digimon had ganged up on another while a fifth stood there and watched. Meanwhile, kneeling in the field and still in the range of the fight was a young boy clutching his ribs.

"There he is!" Maria cried. Gotsumon, Patamon, and Gabumon leapt down and upon landing, ran in to help stop the fight.

"Take us down!" Steve ordered.

"All right," Birdramon answered flatly.

She brought them down less than gently, giving them barely a minute to get off her back before taking off into the skies again. Steve and Maria ran to their friend's side, dodging stray attacks until they finally reached him.

"I'm okay," he assured, but neither of them was buying it. He was still clutching his ribs.

"And like I keep saying, you're not," Steve argued, pulling his friend's hand away to reveal the blood.

"You got cut," Maria noticed. Lou considered trying to tell them that it wasn't that bad, but as he actually looked at his wound, he started to doubt it. The gash wasn't particularly long or deep, but it didn't look good to him.

"We need to keep off the battlefield," he warned. "That green Digimon right there—that's JewelBeemon. He's been trying to get the land here by any means possible. He's the most dangerous one." Steve took one look at the lance JewelBeemon was carrying and quietly agreed.

"All right," he decided, helping Lou out of the line of fire. "We'll let the Digimon settle this."

The three thugs JewelBeemon had brought with him were Volcamon, FlaWizarmon, and Shadramon, and all three were currently locked in battle with Gotsumon, Patamon, and Gabumon respectively. Despite the fact that the latter three were only at the Child level compared to the others' Perfection and Adult levels, they were doing quite well.

Volcamon, in particular, was not quite the smartest of the bunch. He may have been the strongest of the three, but Gotsumon was having a laughably easy time outwitting him.

"Big Bang Voice!" Volcamon shouted, using a microphone to enhance his sonic attack. Gotsumon quickly put up a shield with his Angry Rock attack, blocking the worst of it. His ears were still ringing, but at least he hadn't been broken apart by the vibrations.

"Which is more than I can say for my shield," he muttered. "Hey, ugly! Is that honestly the best you can do?"

This obviously angered Volcamon because he shouted, "Big Bang Tackle!" and came running at Gotsumon head-on.

"I guess it is," he commented. "Angry Rock!"

At his shout, a small boulder shot out and smashed right into Volcamon's head, knocking him out instantly. Gotsumon looked at the sad sight and shook his head.

"All brawn, no brains," he remarked in disappointment. "How are you doing, Patamon?"

"Pretty good!" he replied. Despite being the smallest, he was still able to pull his weight in battle. He was light, fast, and agile, making it easy for him to duck FlaWizarmon's attacks. So far, FlaWizarmon had tried igniting the air in a hazy Fire Cloud, but Patamon was able to propel himself out of the way each time.

Deciding to try another tactic, FlaWizarmon took out the two large matchsticks he kept at his sides. Yelling, ""Magic Ignition!" he tried to aim more fire at Patamon, but the smaller Digimon had a better strategy.

"Air Shot!" he yelled from behind. A sphere of compressed air hit one of the matchsticks, blowing out the flame and breaking the match. As FlaWizarmon whirled around to try and attack him, a second Air Shot hit the remaining match, rendering it too useless. Then he barreled right into FlaWizarmon, catching him off-guard. Gotsumon helped out with another Angry Rock to the head, leaving yet another thug unconscious.

Gabumon, having trained with the police force, was giving Shadramon a hard time as well. Already, he'd shaken off the Psychic Wave, which had surprised Shadramon immensely. Granted, he took a moment to fully regain his clarity, but Shadramon's shock had made up for the delay. Gabumon's Petit Fire collided with Shadramon's Flare Buster, creating a mini-explosion that masked Gabumon's next attack.

"Horn Attack!" he announced, leaping upwards and bashing Shadramon with his horn. The Adult Digimon collapsed in a heap right next to his two buddies.

"What took you so long?" Patamon asked. Gabumon rolled his eyes, then noticed a streak of blue go past.

"What is it?" Gotsumon checked.

Dinohumon was not having an easy time against JewelBeemon. His Akinakesu had been deflected, and he was down to just the blades on his arms. He'd come to realize that he'd seriously underestimated JewelBeemon, and now he was going to pay for that mistake.

"Shot Claw!" JewelBeemon shouted, rushing at him with his claws extended. Dinohumon just managed to bring his right wrist-blade down to prevent his neck being ripped apart when JewelBeemon turned his lance on him with a cry of "Spike Buster!"

"Cold Flame!" shouted a new voice. Something that looked like a blue fireball shot toward them, but rather than burning either fighter, it froze the blade of JewelBeemon's lance, giving Dinohumon a chance to break it with a strong blow from his wrist-blades. JewelBeemon backed off and turned to see his new attacker, the great forensic detective BlueMeramon.

"I knew following that boy's Locomon would pay off," he commented.

"BlueMeramon?" Gabumon recognized. His superior glanced his way.

"Looks like I'm not the only one who decided not to show up to work today," he observed. Gabumon looked slightly embarrassed, but he couldn't pay attention to this right now. JewelBeemon was not someone to be distracted in front of. "So, JewelBeemon, you've been terrorizing this area again, this time attacking messengers?"

"There's nothing you can do about it," JewelBeemon reminded him. "I'm a high-ranking official. Most of your bosses are on my payroll. You try and bring me in, and there's no guarantee that you'll have a job left."

"Who said anything about bringing you in?" BlueMeramon asked coldly. He quickly turned his attention over to the three unconscious hitmen and shouted, "Mental Point Alchemy!" As he touched their heads, they screamed in agony, sending shivers up and down the children's spines. Then it was over, and all three were mere specks of dust in the wind.

"W-what did you do?" Lou asked.

"Can't live if the brain's been exploded, now can you?" He took note of their terrified faces. "Don't worry. They had it coming to them. They've caused too much pain for too many people." Turning back to JewelBeemon, he added, "And now, it's your turn." His cold flames flared up around him, and then shot out toward the developer. "Ice Phantom!"

JewelBeemon cut through the ice with a single swipe of his claws. "I'm far stronger than those three were. Something like this wouldn't be able to take me down."

"Then how about something like this?" Dinohumon asked, charging at him with his sword. JewelBeemon was foolish enough to turn around rather than duck out of the way, and he took the hit at full-force. The children watched from behind as the large blade was shoved right through his body, the point sticking out of his back for a moment before he disintegrated.

BlueMeramon looked at the shell-shocked faces and turned his attention back to Dinohumon. "We'll have to arrange transport for them back to Babamon's shop. Keep it discreet, though. I don't want too many people noticing them." He nodded and helped Nohemon back to the village.

"BlueMeramon, what's the problem?" Gabumon questioned.

"The city guardians showed up today in the Middle District," he answered. "They were obviously searching for someone. If I'm right, these kids must be the Digi-destined."

Gabumon looked back at Steve, Maria, and Lou. Steve was staring into space, Maria was crying, and Lou was dry-heaving. This was not a good way to introduce the children to their duties.

"What do we do?" he asked.

"Keep an eye on them. Make sure that the city guardians can't find them, and keep them out of as much trouble as you can. I'll be keeping an eye on the city guardians in the meantime, and I'll warn you if anything develops."

"Wait," Steve interrupted, waking up from his daze. "Two of our friends are still missing—Michael and Sam. They were in the same room with us when we got pulled here, so they might be Digi-destined too."

"I'll keep an eye out for them," BlueMeramon promised. "I have some connections, so I'll be able to pass along messages. Oh, and Gabumon?"

"Yes?"

"You're fired."

"What?" Gabumon asked in total shock.

"You can't be at the station and protecting these children at the same time," BlueMeramon reasoned. "And if I fire you, that'll keep anyone from getting suspicious. I'll cover your tracks, don't worry." To the children, he informed, "You can stay in the Middle District and work there without being noticed too much. There are a lot of human-looking Digimon that you might not get recognized right off the bat. Just act natural and keep a low profile—that means you too." He addressed this one to Steve.

"I'm back," Dinohumon informed, two birdlike Digimon flying right behind him. "The Holsmon sisters agreed to fly them back. And they'll keep this quiet."

"Thank you," BlueMeramon replied. "The Digi-destined can't afford to reveal themselves just yet." Dinohumon was surprised at this comment, but he nodded.

"Their secret's safe with me," he assured. Carefully, he lifted Lou up and placed him on one of the Holsmon sisters. Maria followed, and Patamon rested in her arms. Steve and the other Digimon went on the second Holsmon.

"Hold on as tight as you can," warned the first. "I don't want you to fall."

"The same for you," added the second, and Steve tightened his grip on her neck as they took off into the skies.

* * *

Back at Babamon's shop, Gabumon had taken over taking orders while Gotsumon met with Babamon in their workshop. Upstairs, the Digi-destined were recovering physically and emotionally from their first battle. 

"What is it?" Gotsumon asked.

"Don't leave that boy alone anymore," Babamon warned. "It was a mistake for me to allow him to go alone today."

"You're only an empath," Gotsumon reminded her. "You can't predict the future, only tell what's happening in the here and now."

"Gotsumon, that boy is your partner," she informed him. "You can't deny that you've felt it."

"I know," he admitted. "But I'm not ready to fight yet. And neither is he."

"Soon enough, Lou will be ready," she told him. "And you must be too."

"Yeah," Gotsumon answered reluctantly.

"But for now, we need to let everything settle in for them," she advised. "They have a lot to get used to."

Meanwhile, upstairs, Lou was sitting on his pallet, his ribs bandaged up. Steve was sewing up his shirt—yet another odd quirk about him that neither of the other Digi-destined expected. Maria, meanwhile, was drawing in one of Steve's notebooks.

"All finished," Steve announced, knotting the finished stitch and breaking the thread. "And a little water got rid of the blood on it. Weird. I'll get to work on your jacket."

"We're going to have to do that soon," Lou commented out of the blue. Steve lowered his eyes and Maria paused in her drawing. "We're going to have to kill someone."

"Better them than us, I guess," Steve replied. "If it's the only way, then I guess we have to do it."

"But…" Maria protested.

"I look at things differently from the way you do," he reminded them. "Gabumon was with the police, and so was BlueMeramon. Their job was to protect the people of this city. Dinohumon was part of a village, and his job was to protect its people. Sometimes that involves killing, am I right?"

"Yeah," Maria admitted.

"Well, think of being a Digi-destined as being in the police or part of a village," he reasoned. "From the way BlueMeramon was talking about us, I'm guessing that we must be here to protect this world. And sometimes you have to kill if there's something you want to protect."

"I guess that makes sense," Maria replied. "What do you think, Lou?"

"It's better than letting these guys live under this Vamdemon guy," he decided. "The rich are taking advantage of the poor here, just like my parents and almost all of the Stoneheart family does. If stopping them means giving the innocent people a chance to have a better life, then I'm in."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "That's a way of looking at it that I didn't think of."

"Sorry," Lou apologized. "It just reminds me a little too much of home."

"Yeah," Steve admitted. "But at least you turned out okay."

"I have my Granddad to thank for that," he answered.

"Then I, for one, thank your Granddad for giving me one of the best friends I could ever have and giving this world one of the best Digi-destined they're ever going to see," Steve replied. He handed over Lou's shirt, and his friend put it back on. "You and Maria go get something to eat, and bring me up something too. I'm going to fix up your jacket."

"Think you can teach me to sew too?" Maria asked. "We're going to need to know all this stuff, right? Our moms and dads aren't here to help us this time."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "We're on our own now." And looking at Lou, he thought, _And__ some of us might always have been that way._

**All of my information on the Digimon's attacks came from Megchan's Encyclopedia on The Shining Evolution and the DigiDex at The Digi Port. Granted, there aren't many descriptions of just what the attacks do, so I relied on other Diaries series and some inspiration of my own. The effects of the Mental Point Alchemy, which is an attack, according to The Digi Port, were inspired by Scar from _Full Metal Alchemist_, as was part of the character of BlueMeramon to begin with. Other inspiration for the society of Tal Veras comes from _Heat Guy J_ and _Big O._**

**Entry Four: "No Need For Work Permits"  
The Digi-destined need to adapt to life much like the Real World outside their rich comfort zones.**


	4. New World

Sam had slept most of the day in his and Agumon's dormitory, too emotionally exhausted to do anything. He'd been up for only an hour when Agumon walked back inside, his head held low.

"Did you manage to find any information about my friends?" Sam asked.

"No," Agumon confessed. "But the city guardians are out, so I don't know what that means."

"City guardians?" Sam repeated. "Is that like the police force?"

Agumon snorted. "Far from it. These guys take orders directly from His Excellency himself." The title was obviously meant to mock the governor, Sam noticed, or it wouldn't have had that much sarcasm in it. "As corrupt as the police are, the city guardians are even worse. They're just fancy hitmen."

"Wonderful," Sam muttered. "Knowing my luck, they're looking for me."

"They _were_ investigating the area where we found you," Agumon admitted, and Sam couldn't look any less happy about that prospect. "Don't worry. We'll find them. Asuramon's got some good connections; he'll be able to find some clues."

As if on cue, the formidable Digimon unlocked the door and walked into the room. He tossed Sam a work apron, gloves, and a pair of goggles. At Sam's confused look, he said, "After dinner, meet me in the Core. I'm going to teach you how to work the equipment."

"Why?" Agumon questioned, voicing Sam's exact thoughts.

"It'll be too hard to keep him hidden from everyone. As long as he looks the part of an apprentice, nobody should ask any questions." With that, he left, locking the door behind him.

Agumon looked at Sam with some measure of pity. "Welcome to the work force, Sam."

Survival Diaries  
By Akino Ame  
Part of Lord Archive's Diaries Universe. Used with permission.  
Disclaimer: The characters and series of _Digimon_ belong to Toei Entertainment and Akiyoshi Hongo, distributed by Disney.

Entry Four: "New World"

He was cold, he was damp, and he was frustrated at not knowing where his friends were, but Michael ignored it all and walked out onto the docks to meet Mermaimon as she swam in with part of the catch.

"Are you feeling any better?" she checked.

"Somewhat," he answered. Then, looking at the net, he added, "That looks heavy. Do you need any help with that?"

"Honestly, and I don't mean to sound rude or anything, but Digimon of my level are a lot stronger than human children," she explained. She glanced at him, taking note of how lean and lacking in muscles he was. "And from the looks of it, you're definitely not used to this kind of labor."

"I want to help somehow, though," he insisted. "It's not right if I'm living off your generosity. I want to earn my keep."

She hauled her net up and regarded him skeptically, but answered, "All right. I don't agree, but we don't exactly have the money to keep you around like this. Tomorrow morning, at dawn, you go with Betamon and the other smaller Digimon and help them with the fishing. We'll just have to invent a cover story for you."

He shrugged. "You guys said I looked like a Lucemon—whatever that is. Stick to that story."

She nodded. "We'll have to make a few things up, elaborate on it a little, explain your strange appearance, but it should work. Just wait back at the house. Betamon should be back by now, so you can let him know." Michael nodded in reply and headed back, where Betamon was sulking and grumbling about someone named Frogmon.

"Damn Frogmon," he muttered. "Always thinks he's better than us just because he evolved. Thinks he can push me around."

"Are you okay?" Michael checked.

"No," Betamon answered curtly and returned to sulking.

"Betamon, I need to ask you something," he said carefully. If he was going to win an argument with an irate Digimon, he was going to have to be extremely careful. "Can you take me to the docks later?"

Betamon, surprised out of his sulking, eyed Michael suspiciously. "Why?"

"I want to learn how to work the nets."

Betamon never let up on his suspicious gaze. "Why?"

Michael sighed. So much for trying to be careful. He'd have to be direct. "I'm going out with you at dawn tomorrow so I can properly earn my keep here. I need to learn how to at least avoid tangling myself up in the nets when I haul in the catch."

"Did Mermaimon put you up to this?" Betamon demanded. "She complains so much about money, but we're not as bad off as she says."

"I came up with the idea myself," Michael explained. "And Mermaimon agreed. She's right about the money. You are that bad off."

"We survive."

"Barely, by the looks of it," Michael argued. "I come from a rich family, so my standards are a lot higher than yours are, but I know the difference between living comfortably and barely keeping yourself off the streets." He gestured to the walls of the shack. "There's no insulation here, and it's damp. Granted, you and Mermaimon need the water and she at least needs a waterway to get in and out, but you've got to be freezing during winter time. If you get sick, you lose a day or more of work, and you've got to pay for the medicine. I saw Mermaimon worrying about how to pay for my medicine. I watched her counting those coins. I don't know the currency, but I could tell that you didn't have much. You're at the end of your pay, and you can't afford having me live off of you. Let me help."

Pride was usually Betamon's downfall, but he couldn't deny anything that Michael was saying. Finally, he surrendered and replied, "All right. But I'm not taking your money—you use it for yourself."

Michael nodded. "I'll only use it to pay for room and board and whatever else I might need."

"Anything else?"

"Yeah," Michael answered, "now that you mention it. What can you tell me about the Digi-destined?"

* * *

Babamon and Gotsumon walked upstairs to the Digi-destined's studio, where Steve sat on the floor, eating and sewing up Lou's jacket. Maria was drawing, and Lou was finishing a piece of bread. Babamon went to Lou and felt around his injuries before handing him an herbal mixture, instructing, "Now that you've eaten, drink this. It will numb the pain and let you sleep tonight." 

"Not yet," Steve warned, setting down his needle. Lou and Maria looked at him. "Lou, I don't want you falling asleep in the middle of this. We need answers."

"Gotsumon, will you please fetch Gabumon and Patamon?" Babamon requested. "They're Steve's and Maria's partners, so they need to get closer to them."

"Partners?" Steve repeated, startled out of his authority.

"I'll get them," Gotsumon agreed, retreating downstairs.

"Yes," Babamon replied to Steve's question. "Each Digi-destined is partnered with a Digimon. Your partner is Gabumon, and Maria's is Patamon."

"What about mine?" Lou asked.

"Gotsumon," she answered. "He's a bit more reluctant, but he'll come around eventually."

The three Digimon returned, and the kids immediately focused their attention on them—their partners. Finally, Steve said, "We need to know everything."

"Where do you want to start?" Gabumon asked.

Maria raised her hand. When they nodded at her, she asked, "What are Digi-destined?"

"They're humans that come to the Digital World," Patamon explained. "It's their destiny to save it from evil. But since they can't do it alone, Digimon are chosen to help them. So in a way, that makes us Digi-destined too."

"Oh," she answered.

"But that's not all, is it?" Steve guessed. "Every group of Chosen Ones always has some abilities that separates them from any other person—it's a constant. What makes us so special?"

"Digi-destined have the power to make their Digimon evolve," Gabumon explained. "It's for a short time, but it's enough of a power boost for them to fight."

"Evolution's like what it is in human science, right?" Steve asked. Lou gave him a questioning look; this was not a subject covered in their strict Catholic school. "Even though my school doesn't teach it, I studied it on my own. It's the progression of a species to one better adapted for survival, right?"

"Pretty much the same," Gabumon answered. "Evolution happens on its own in each Digimon—there are Digimon of all sorts of levels, mostly Adults and lower—throughout Tal Veras and the rest of the Digital World."

"We have to kill, don't we?" Lou questioned, still depressed and shell-shocked from the battle earlier. "Like Steve said, better them than us."

"It's not always that way," Babamon assured. "If you can avoid it, you will. But when the stakes are too great, you will have to." She placed a hand over his heart. "As long as it still hurts, it won't kill your soul. You are fighting to stay alive and to save all you hold dear. If you don't do this, your loved ones will suffer." He nodded reluctantly.

"But since you're an incomplete team, we need to keep you in hiding," Gotsumon added. "Gabumon told us earlier that BlueMeramon noticed the city guardians were hunting you."

"Vamdemon's army?" Lou questioned. "What do they want with us?"

"He obviously sees you as a threat," Gotsumon replied. "Until we find your missing friends and get strong enough to fight the city guardians, you have to keep a low profile. By working here, you'll be able to earn enough money to live, but surviving this city is another story. We'll protect you, and BlueMeramon will keep an eye out for us, but the rest is up to you."

"Digi-destined teams traditionally have a leader," Babamon informed. "Since the three of you are a team, who will lead you?"

"I pick Steve!" Maria cried.

"Same here," Lou agreed. To Steve, he said, "You're really the one who brought us all together, and you've always been leading Michael, Sam, and me in and out of trouble. I'm sure they'd say the same."

"All right then," Steve decided. "I guess I accept."

"What do we do first, leader?" Maria asked.

"As your commanding officer, I decree that first, Lou drinks that disgusting pain medication then goes to sleep. You finish your coloring and I'll finish his jacket, and then we'll help the others with the shop. Sound good?"

Maria mock-saluted. "Yes, sir!"

Lou rolled his eyes. "I'm really going to regret picking you as leader, aren't I?"

"Hey, I didn't decree that you could complain like Sam," Steve replied. "Now sit down and drink your tea!"

"Sir, yes sir," Lou muttered in jest before choking down the herbal tea. "Going to bed now, sir. Any other orders, sir?"

"Yeah. Don't snore!"

* * *

The heat was still as bad in the Core as it had been when Sam first found himself there, but Asuramon had given him a large flask of water to keep on his belt so he wouldn't dehydrate. Thankfully, the flask was very well insulated, so each time he took a sip, the water was only fairly warm rather than boiling or evaporated. 

As for the work itself, it was difficult. Put into perspective, the Central Core was a giant heat-producing factory, and as such, it required a great deal of maintenance to keep it running. The controls were almost ridiculously complicated, and Sam had a hard time figuring out what controlled what and how he should operate it. Asuramon was a strict taskmaster, but he wasn't harsh enough to put him to work at the more difficult positions. Sam's job for now was to control the fire output through cranks and levers, only occasionally having to look over the flames. But it was still exhausting, and he returned to the dorm sweating and drained, feeling a whole new appreciation for life outside his comfort zone.

_If Dad could see me now,_ he thought, walking into the dormitory.

"Worked you like hell, didn't he?" Agumon guessed, and Sam weakly nodded. "The shower's in the back if you need it."

"Thanks. The water's not too hot, is it?"

Agumon grinned slightly. "Too hot to handle back there?"

"No kidding," Sam gasped. "I really need to cool off."

Frankly not caring about modesty right now, he ripped off his clothes and went over to the shower, keeping it cold. He sighed in relief as the cool water hit his body, easily washing away the filth. Hearing this, Agumon commented, "You're going to be feeling it in the morning."

"I'm feeling it now," Sam replied.

"Not used to working like this, eh?"

"No." Sam suddenly couldn't help but let a sardonic laugh escape him. "My dad always tells me to try to work, make something of myself. On vacations, he has me do random odd jobs whenever he can find them—mostly washing cars, since we live in the city and it's hard to do some summer jobs kids have. He doesn't even give me allowance at home—whatever money I earn from summer jobs or get for my birthday goes directly into a savings account. I don't invite my friends over because I don't have half the stuff they do. My mom tries to give me what she can, but my dad's trying to convince her to only get me things that I'd _need_, like a new computer or something. All I just want to do is be a kid as long as I can."

Agumon snorted. "Sounds kind of selfish to me. We don't have that luxury here, and you definitely won't either. Living here changes you, makes you feel a lot older than you are. And it's not just in Tal Veras—all over the Digital World."

Sam turned off the water, grabbed a towel, and walked out. "It sounds like you're talking about other kids in the Digital World."  
"I am."

Sam stared. "There were others? Where? When? Is there any way they can help me find my friends and get home?"

"Whoa, whoa!" Agumon answered, holding up his clawed hands to tell him to slow down. "Chances are that's pretty unlikely. Legend has it they disappeared a long time ago."

"What happened?" Sam asked, pulling his shirt back on.

"Like I said, it happened a long time ago. Five human children called Digi-destined were called here to defeat a great evil, but I guess they failed. After that, the Dark Masters came, and then Vamdemon took over the island. Every now and then a legend comes up about one of the kids appearing, but we've never seen any humans other than you around. Besides, if he _was_ still around, he'd have continued fighting, don't you think?"

"I guess," Sam agreed. Then, mentally doing the math, he added, "But there were five of us too! Agumon, is it possible that my friends and I are Digi-destined too?"

"I don't know," he confessed. "The Digi-destined had this sort of talisman called a digivice. Asuramon looked you over and didn't find anything like that on you." It wasn't the truth—not really. Asuramon had found something, but he wouldn't tell Agumon what it was.

"Oh," he replied. "I guess I got pulled here by accident then. That's probably why that man brought me here. Or, I guess Digimon."

"No, that guy wasn't a Digimon," Agumon explained. "He looks human, but he isn't. He's been around here for a while now, trying to help out. I don't know why he brought you here, but I guess he realized that if Vamdemon thought you were a Digi-destined, there'd be trouble. That guy trusted Asuramon for some reason—I don't know why; they've never really met."

"Maybe Asuramon knew the Digi-destined somehow," Sam suggested.

"I don't know," Agumon admitted. "Maybe. It would definitely explain why he doesn't like me telling that story. Don't let him know I told you or anything."

"Don't worry," Sam replied. "If I've got to keep my own presence here a secret, it shouldn't be too hard keeping that secret."

"Heh," Agumon laughed. "I think I'm going to like you." Sam grinned before collapsing back on his bunk. "Yeah, you'll want to sleep that off. We're both going to have a big day tomorrow."

"Fun," he muttered.

"Sarcastic, eh? I'm _definitely _going to like you. Anyway, get some rest. I'll sneak you some breakfast in the morning. Night"

"Night," Sam answered, closing his eyes. As he drifted off to sleep, he thought over Agumon's story and his own philosophy from home. Agumon had said he was selfish to think that way. Sam wanted to protest that, but he couldn't. After hearing about the Digi-destined, who had given everything—possibly including their lives as well—to try to save a world that wasn't theirs, he didn't think he had the right to complain about not having a childhood.

_Guess it's time for me to grow up,_ he realized before sleep fully took him.

* * *

The next morning at dawn, Michael followed Betamon to the other fishers. Betamon didn't bother introducing him because they agreed it would be better if he kept as low a profile as possible. 

"Just watch out for Frogmon," Betamon whispered as they readied the nets. Michael followed Betamon's line of sight to a yellow frog covered in leaf-like armor.

"Him?" he asked. Betamon nodded just as Frogmon turned a pointed glare their way. "I see what you mean."

"He's trouble, trust me," Betamon said. "He used to be a friend until he evolved. Now he's flaunting his level for everyone to see, bullies us Child Levels around. Whatever you do, don't give him a reason to hate you."

Michael shifted his gaze, but still felt Frogmon's eyes against his back. "That'll be easier said than done," he muttered.


	5. See You on the Battlefield

Survival Diaries

By Akino Ame

Part of Lord Archive's Diaries Universe. Used with permission.

Disclaimer: The characters and series of _Digimon_ belong to Toei Entertainment and Akiyoshi Hongo, distributed by Disney.

Entry Five: "See You on the Battlefield"

Michael had no idea how he was going to pull this off. The fishing ship hadn't yet set sail, so he knew he stood a chance of getting caught and thrown off before he even had the chance to try. He'd left his shirt back at Mermaimon's shack so he could show off a bandaged torso—part of his cover that he was an injured digimon. His shoes were also off for the same reason. A stinky green blob of a digimon oozed around the ship, checking off a list, which only added to Michael's paranoia. Once, when his father had to play a villainous role in a movie, Michael had asked him how he managed it. The character was cold, calculating, and driven—completely the opposite of the laidback, adventurous, and even crude man that Michael had known all of his life. His father answered that part of acting was figuring out what was going on in the character's head, difficult of course, but crucial. Once an actor understood how his character ticked, he could begin the process of playing him.

Michael took a breath and steeled himself. The role he was playing was an injured young digimon with no other way to pay back his rescuers' kindness. Really, it was only a change of species. Both the character and the actor were scared stiff but determined to at least give it their best shot.

_All right, _he told himself. _I can do this._

The blob came over to him and Betamon, had a double-take, and looked at his notes. Immersing himself into his character, Michael calmly asked, "Is something wrong?"

"You—who are you? You're not on the list!" the blob shouted. This got everyone looking at them, and Michael suddenly felt something akin to stage fright. He fought it off with what he liked to think of as stage thrill—the thrill his father had taught him of playing a part.

"I'm just trying to pay off a debt to my friends," he explained. "I got attacked, and Betamon and Mermaimon saved me. I thought I was going to die, but they kept me alive."

"Take your sob story somewhere else," the blob warned. "You're not on the list."

"It's a favor to Mermaimon," Betamon cut in. "You know how she gets when she finds a pathetic case like this." The blob wavered. "Come on, Numemon. It's only until he can get back on his feet. Yeah, so he's a Lucemon that can't fly anymore—he's still got arms to haul with. It'd mean a lot to Mermaimon if you helped us out."

"All right," the blob, Numemon, finally agreed. "But that's the third one you owe me—you need to pay up."

"No problem," Betamon promised. "I'll just let her know how suave and debonair you are and that you know a nice little place in the Middle District where you can get dinner." The grin he and Numemon shared indicated that they'd gone through this particular conversation many times before.

"All right, everyone back to work," Numemon ordered. "Cast off!"

Just as the ship set sail, Michael noticed a familiar yellow frog leering at him. Disturbed, he hurriedly went back to rigging up the nets, but Frogmon came over anyway.

"Looks like you have a new friend, Betamon," Frogmon observed while Betamon silently fumed. "What's the matter? Trying to replace me?"

"I've got a voice, you know," Michael interrupted. He knew it was foolish, but he was tired of people talking around him.

Frogmon turned a glare on him. "Pretty brave, kid. Brave or stupid."

"Sometimes I can't help but be accused of one of the two," Michael replied, matching the stare evenly.

Realizing that he couldn't win the war of intimidation, Frogmon tried a different tactic. "You know, it's got to be pretty hard for you to fight without your wings. There aren't a whole lot of Lucemon around, but I've heard about their attacks. You've probably knocked out your most powerful attacks, am I right?"

"What's this about?" Betamon argued.

"Hey, your friend and I are talking here," Frogmon snapped. Then, turning back to Michael, he said, "I'll see you tonight at the docks for a little…training session."

When Frogmon finally left, a bewildered Michael turned to Betamon and asked, "What did I just not agree to here?"

"Put bluntly, you're screwed," Betamon answered with a wince.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

-------

While young, Maria was determined to do her fair share of work around the shop. In the morning, before everyone else woke, she and Patamon snuck into the kitchen to try and make breakfast. Patamon's flight gave him access to ingredients and equipment on the higher shelves while Maria sat at the table to cook. She didn't usually cook at home because of her age and her mother's nervousness at letting her handle the stove, but scrambled eggs couldn't be that hard, could they?

When Steve came downstairs a few minutes later, he fell over laughing at the sight of Maria and Patamon looking absolutely disgusted by the eggy mess they'd created. It was amazing there was still any in the bowl—it had splashed onto the table, the floor, and them when Maria tried to scramble the eggs, and Patamon's attempt to pour the milk had spilled milk all over the table.

"What happened?" Gabumon asked, looking at the mess.

"We just wanted to help…" Maria protested.

"Eggs aren't as easy as they look," Patamon added.

Steve managed to pick himself up and restrain his laughter long enough to take the goop-covered bowl from them and bring it over to the stove. "Thanks for the help, you two. I'll get these cooked while you wash up." Maria gave him a bright grin before racing Patamon upstairs. Gabumon looked once more at the mess and then at his partner.

"Help?" he repeated.

"Hey, there's no reason to yell at them for trying to help," Steve said. "So they made a mess? Big deal—they learned from it. They're part of this team and they're trying to pull their weight. I don't see anything wrong with them doing that."

"What if they try too hard and get hurt?" Gabumon asked.

"I trust them to know when they're in over their heads," Steve replied. "Maybe I believe in people a little too much, but I'm usually never wrong. And in any case, Patamon's there to keep her out of trouble."

Gabumon gave him a cynical look. "You expect me to keep you out of trouble too, don't you?"

Steve gave a sheepish grin. "Think you can start by cleaning the kitchen?"

There wasn't enough of the egg to cook alone, so Steve added milk to stretch it before dipping in several slices of bread and frying them on the stove. Lou and Gotsumon came down soon after and started setting the table. Steve had just about finished cooking the French toast when there was a knock at the door. Gotsumon headed off to answer it.

"What are_ you_ doing here?" he demanded. Steve and Lou froze and stared at each other while Gabumon prepared to defend them if necessary.

"I have information you may be interested in," said whoever it was at the door.

"Then just say it and go," Gotsumon spat.

"Gotsumon, let him in," Babamon declared, walking in. "This is important, and you know it."

With a sigh, Gotsumon let somebody step through the door before he closed it and showed him to the kitchen. The visitor appeared to be human—a man in his twenties or thirties, dressed in a white robe with a hood. Lou and Steve blinked.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the man said when Gotsumon didn't make a move to do the same. "My name is Benjamin, and I'm here to help you."

Steve looked at Lou and said, "Please tell me I've finally lost it and Obi-Wan Kenobi isn't standing right in front of us."

"It's not just you, man," Lou replied, shaking his head. "It's not just you."

It took a few minutes for everyone to introduce themselves and settle down, and by the time Maria and Patamon returned from their bath, breakfast was on the table for everyone. Benjamin ate very little, which suited Gotsumon just fine, as he just wanted him done and out of there. Gabumon was wary, Patamon was curious, and the kids were anxious to learn more about the first adult human they'd seen in this world. Babamon, however, was calm about the whole thing, offering the man another cup of tea. It grated on Gotsumon's nerves that she'd be so casual about a known renegade. Granted, Gotsumon didn't like Vamdemon any more than Benjamin did, but at least he didn't make trouble for others because of it.

"Um, Mr. Benjamin?" Maria asked. "Do you know where our friends are?"

"First of all, just call me Benjamin. We're going to be working fairly closely from here on out, so there's no need for formalities." The kids nodded. "Second, yes and no."

"What do you mean 'yes and no'?" Lou asked. "Are Sam and Michael okay?"

"One of them definitely is," Benjamin answered. "Sam, I think it was. I left him with a friend who I know will take good care of him. He's in the Central Core."

"I remember seeing that place," Lou said. "It's right in the middle of the island."

"Yes, and right under Vamdemon's nose."

"And Michael?" Steve added.

"I don't know," Benjamin confessed. "Opening portals to the real world—your world—is difficult. While the digivices can reach their owners most of the time, we have a hard time getting the portal to open exactly where we want it to. I'd hoped you'd all be together when you arrived here, but instead, you all got split up over the island. I managed to track down the landing points for most of you: Sam landed near one of the warehouses in the Central Core, so I had to get to him first. Maria ended up in the park, close to Patamon, I believe. Steve took a bad fall near a crime scene—" And here, the others stared at him as he grinned in embarrassment. He'd been hoping he could forget that. "And Lou wound up right in the middle of the Middle District."

"So what about Michael?" Steve asked.

"I lost his signal somewhere over the water," Benjamin replied. "There's been something going on in the rivers that's blocking my tracking system. But if he got in the water, he should be fine. There are fishers all over the coast and along the riverbanks. One of them would find him."

Lou felt a chill go up his spine. "But what if one of Vamdemon's men found him? What's going to happen?"

"Vamdemon probably wouldn't look there," Benjamin explained. "It's not that obvious, and he's overlooked the poor there so often that he doesn't realize how many of them are willing to rise up against him—if they had the strength. They only have a few at the Perfection level, and those ones can barely fight outside of the water. Vamdemon's headquarters is in the heart of the High District—and completely isolated from any water source."

"So you _do _want them to fight," Gotsumon noticed. "Instead of concentrating on reuniting them so they can get back to their world, you'd rather throw all of them together against an army that's crushed everything that's come up against them—no matter how powerful they were."

"The choice is up to them," Benjamin replied. "And I trust that no matter what they choose, as their partners, you'll stand by their decisions. As partners, you share a great deal—experiences, energy, and many things I will explain to you at a later time. But now, I hope you share trust in one another."

"I'd like to fight," Steve confessed, breaking the uneasy silence that followed Benjamin's impromptu speech. "I hate having to stand by while someone this corrupt is in power and draining the money and life out of the people here. But I'll wait till we find Sam and Michael before I decide anything. I don't want to leave them out of this—I'm the leader, so I have to listen to everyone first." Gabumon nodded in agreement, impressed with the maturity his silly partner displayed.

"I want to help," Maria added, "but I don't know if I'd be any good. If we do stay, will you all help me?"

"Of course we will!" Patamon affirmed. "I'm not very strong, but I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Maria smiled. "Then I want to stay!"

And now, everyone looked at Lou for his answer. He was nervously fidgeting in his seat, not meeting anyone's gaze. Finally, Gotsumon asked, "Well?"

"I don't know," he answered. "You both make good points. I got pulled into the middle of this already, so I know how everyone in this city must feel. But at the same time, I don't know if we'd be able to do anything about it. I just don't know. I'll go with the majority, I guess, when Michael and Sam are here."

"But what if there's a split decision?" Gabumon asked. "You'll have to make the deciding vote then, instead of Steve."

Lou winced. "I didn't think about that. Just please don't ask me to decide right now."

"Okay," Benjamin agreed. "Then for now, we'll focus on finding Michael. The best place to start is probably the harbor—we'll ask the fishers if they've seen anything."

"But how are we going to avoid suspicion?" Gabumon asked. "You're a fugitive, and these three stand out like sore thumbs."

Steve grinned. "The whole secret to avoiding looking like you don't belong is to act like you do belong. Just talk the talk, walk the walk, and no one will know otherwise."

Lou raised an eyebrow. "That just went way over our heads."

"Trust me on this."

-------

Work was exhausting and gave Michael a whole new appreciation for the digimon—and indeed, the humans back home—who did this day in and day out. His muscles ached, he could barely stand, and from head to toe, he smelled like dead fish: slimy, rotting, disgusting dead fish. It was enough that when he got back to Mermaimon's shack, he nearly vomited at the smell of dinner: fish, of course. Still, he ate just so he could keep up his strength.

"That has got to be the single stupidest thing I've ever heard you do!" Mermaimon yelled at Betamon. "What were you thinking? You know Michael can't fight!"

"To be fair, the sarcasm was my doing," Michael said calmly, taking a second helping of stewed greens. "The rest—that was Frogmon."

"What are you going to do?" Mermaimon asked once she calmed down a bit. "Frogmon specializes in catching his opponents off-guard and hitting weaknesses _hard_. How do you plan to fight back?"

"I have no idea," Michael confessed, looking down. The mask he'd worn all day was slipping off, showing a scared young boy with no idea what to do next. "I know a few things about self-defense—my dad does so many action films, it's kind of hard not to imitate him when he has to go in for martial arts choreography. But I don't think I can do this."

"Hey," Betamon insisted. "We're going to be there—we've got your back."

"Thanks," Michael replied. "I really needed that."

When dinner was over, he went over and pulled his shirt on and tucked it into his pants. It would offer some protection, and tucking it in would keep him from getting caught as easily. Though he was skeptical as to what he could find, he checked his backpack for anything useful. If he remembered correctly, batteries could explode when exposed to heat, but Frogmon didn't appear to be a fire-elemental, nixing that idea. The CD could be a useful projectile, but he only had one. The notebooks and homework wouldn't be much help, unless he happened to get close enough to Frogmon to whack him over the head or give him a surprisingly fatal paper cut, but Michael planned on keeping as far out of reach as humanly possible.

"Well, I do have this thing, whatever it is," he remembered, looking at the silver device he'd pulled out of his pack.

"That's your digivice, isn't it?" Betamon asked.

Michael gave him a confused look. "Is that what this thing is?"

"I guess," Betamon answered. "Mermaimon says it is, and it sounds like everything from the legends." Michael nodded, having heard the stories earlier. "I've heard that through those things, a digimon and a human can share energy. You just need to find your Digimon partner, and you'd be able to fight Frogmon, no problem."

"How?" Michael asked. "I'm still a little sketchy on that."

"All the legends say that the digivice allows for a digimon to evolve easily," Mermaimon explained. "Evolving is kind of like growing up for you humans, only in digimon, where it's induced, it's reversible. Each new level has new powers and is a lot stronger than the level before it. For example, Betamon's Adult level would probably be twice as powerful as he is now, and my Ultimate level would be even stronger, since I'm a Perfection—one level above Adult, which is a level above Child." Michael nodded in understanding.

"And Frogmon's twice as strong as he was in his Child form, Shakomon," Betamon added.

"So would he be twice as strong as me?" Michael asked quietly.

"I don't know," Mermaimon confessed. "And I don't like that you have to find out. You can still run away."

"And then what?" Michael asked. "I don't have anywhere to go. I don't know where my friends are, I don't know how to get back to my world—I've got nothing. Staying here is my only option. And I can't live off of you guys without giving something back. If I run away from Frogmon, I won't be able to go back there and earn my keep. I'm stuck."

And with that, he stuffed the digivice in his back pocket and shuffled off to meet his fate, Mermaimon and Betamon close behind him.

-------

"This is stupid," Lou moaned. Somehow or another, Steve had gotten them in dark robes that covered them from head to toe. And while it was supposed to keep them from being spotted easily, he felt everyone's eyes on him. "People are staring at us!"

"Correction: they're staring at _you_," Steve replied, turning around and pointing. "Benjamin, Maria, and I are blending in just fine. Just relax and you'll be fine."

"Will you both knock it off?" Gotsumon asked. "BlueMeramon's headed our way."

Benjamin started to leave for a shadowed alley, but Maria caught hold of his cloak and said, "It's okay. He's one of our friends. He helped us when Lou was in big trouble."

"Well, I'm glad to see you children have plenty of help," he decided.

BlueMeramon didn't come too close, so Gabumon ran over to them, as their unofficial liaison. "Did you find anything?" he asked.

"I've been listening around and heard there's going to be trouble at the docks," he answered. Then, spotting the tall, robed figure in the back, he added, "It sounds like your brand of trouble."

"Is it one of the other children?" Gabumon asked.

"I don't know," BlueMeramon confessed. "I'd check it out myself, but I'm on duty. You're going to have to do this one on your own. But I'll keep an eye out for you."

"Thank you," Benjamin said from a distance, but BlueMeramon pretended he hadn't heard nor seen a thing, and that was just what they needed.

"To the docks?" Steve guessed.

"Don't get your hopes up," Benjamin warned, "but to the docks it is."

-------

Michael felt better knowing that Betamon and Mermaimon were with him, but that almost-good feeling fled when he saw that Frogmon had witnesses. Even so, he took a deep breath and forced himself to remain calm. A panic attack was the absolute last thing he needed right now.

"I'm surprised you had the guts to show up," Frogmon said. "Kunemon and I had a bet going to see how far you'd run."

"Don't worry about those guys," Betamon whispered. "Kunemon and Otamamon are pretty weak, so they won't try anything. And if they do, I've got them. All you have to do is…"

"Not die," Michael finished.

Betamon winced. "Good luck."

"You through talking?" Frogmon asked. "I didn't come here to sit around and watch you gab."

"Not yet," Michael replied, feigning courage, and doing it surprisingly well. "I want to set some ground rules."

"Whatever. So long as it gets you to shut up already."

"This is only practice," Michael insisted. "Nothing lethal."

"Fine," Frogmon agreed. "Now let's go!"

With a cry of "Leaf Wheel Cutter!" he sent a spinning wheel of razor-sharp leaves coming straight at Michael. Without a second thought, he jumped into the water, ignoring the laughs of Frogmon and his cronies. He swam underneath the dock, taking the opportunity to inspect everything around him. The water was polluted, with litter just bobbing in the waves. He chose an abandoned oar as a weapon just as something grazed his elbow. Frogmon had caught him with something sharp—but not a leaf wheel this time. It was time to get serious.

Michael got out of the water and brandished his oar, paying no heed to the laughter he received. Before Frogmon could send off another leaf wheel, he rushed forward, swiping at him with the oar. However, he'd completely forgotten the fact that his opponent was a rather large yellow _frog_; naturally, he jumped right over it and readied another attack. Michael just caught a glint of silver before a tower of water came at them, sending both of them into the bay. When he surfaced, Betamon was standing on the dock, glaring at Frogmon, and a dagger was right in front of him.

"I knew he'd try something sneaky like this," Betamon declared. "Didn't expect the knife, though, but I'm glad I spotted it."

"That goes completely against the rules you two set up in the beginning," Mermaimon said. "It was supposed to be non-lethal."

"Still would have been if he ducked," Frogmon insisted.

As Michael climbed back onto the dock, Betamon replied, "No, that's it. I'm sick of the way you've been treating all of us lately. You used to be my best friend, but you know what? I've only known him a day or two, and Michael's already a better friend than you ever were!"

The digivice in Michael's pocket started to feel warm, so he pulled it out to check it, not hearing Frogmon say, "So he _is _a human then."

"Yeah," Betamon answered. "And instead of making him fight a losing battle, I'm going to make sure I finish what you started."

Mermaimon came over to Michael and draped an arm around him for support. "Sit this one out, kid. Let Betamon fight."

Michael was about to protest, but he knew he was next to useless. In contrast, Betamon was doing fairly well. He somersaulted through Leaf Wheel Cutters and sliced at Frogmon with his sharp dorsal fin. When Frogmon tried to pull out his dagger again, Betamon struck it with an electrical shock.

But Frogmon liked to play dirty, and he knew that there was one weakness Betamon would never be able to overcome: his small size. The next time Betamon came close, he leapt on top of him, trapping him under a hind foot.

"Betamon!" Michael cried. He tried to run over to help him, but Mermaimon held his arms tightly. "Let go! He'll be crushed to death!"

"You can't go in there," Mermaimon insisted. "Frogmon will kill you!"

"Then why don't you do something?" Michael insisted.

He finally managed to pull an arm free and used it to pull her wrist away from his other arm. He was running toward Frogmon when the digivice in his hand shone brightly and its heat nearly burned him. The next thing he knew, he heard Betamon crying out, "Betamon evolve! Seadramon!"

There was blinding light all around Betamon, and Michael had to cover his eyes for fear of blinding himself. When it faded, he saw exactly what this "Seadramon" was: a long blue sea serpent with a gold mask, who looked none too pleased about Frogmon standing on his tail.

"So, you think you can kick us around now?" he asked, his voice a lot deeper than it had been as Betamon's. Otamamon and Kunemon were smart—they went running, leaving their leader to deal with one very angry sea dragon with what looked suspiciously like a smirk on his face. "Let's see how you like it, then. Ice Arrow!"

Ice formed around Frogmon, leaving only his head exposed. Then Seadramon whipped his tail out from underneath Frogmon, sending him flying out into the ocean, bobbing and floating and completely at the mercy of the tides.

"Hopefully, by the time you thaw, you'll have learned your lesson," Seadramon said. "Or at least you'll be far away from the island. Either way, you're not a problem." He then looked down at Michael. "Hi."

Michael blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. He could vaguely hear people calling out his name in the distance, but he couldn't seem to register it in his mind. All that was there were Seadramon and his incredible evolution.

Finally, he said, "I'm not usually the one for dumb jokes—that's Steve's department—but I guess parochial school was wrong about evolution being only a theory."

"You know, Seadramon," Mermaimon interrupted, "that was pretty anticlimactic. I thought you'd have done more than just turn Frogmon into an iceberg."

"I didn't want to sink to his level," Seadramon insisted. "He was outclassed, and both of us knew it."

"Still, you should have hit him a little more," Mermaimon replied. "Just to make the lesson stick."

Seadramon chuckled before turning back to his partner. "Michael, don't be mad at Mermaimon for not fighting. She and I've been at this long enough that she knows not to butt in unless I really need it. I had Frogmon back there, even if that evolution didn't happen."

"Really?" Michael asked a bit skeptically.

"Of course," Seadramon answered. "He forgot that I could electrocute him. I was just mustering up enough energy for a good enough Electric Shock when you came running. Of course, I was fresh out, so thanks."

Michael grinned at this. "No problem."

"Hey!" cried a voice nearby. While Seadramon devolved, Michael turned to see Steve, Lou, Maria, three digimon, and an unknown man walking to him.

When he got close enough, Steve put an arm around Michael and said, "We spend the entire time looking for you, and what are you doing? Playing around with the digimon!"

Michael shoved his friend playfully and asked, "So what've I missed?"

Daylight broke over the Low District as the fishing ships set sail. It was artificial light, supplied by an artificial sun, but it didn't bother Michael all that much. In fact, not much was bothering him today. He was getting some odd stares from the other fishers, as he'd foregone the injured digimon act but all the same, he pulled his weight as an ordinary human.

"You're staying on board?" Numemon asked in surprise.

"Gotta earn my keep," Michael insisted. "Just because I'm not playing a part doesn't mean I'm going back on my word. And if me being human is such a problem, then the rest of you guys just have to deal with it. I don't plan on changing any time soon."

Betamon smirked and said, "You tell 'em."

Numemon simply sighed and muttered, "Between the two of you, I don't know how I'm gonna survive."

**The chapter title comes from the catchphrase of the _Zoids _next-episode previews. I apologize if the writing style of the fic fluctuates from chapter to chapter; I've been working on multiple projects at the same time, which influences how I write back-burner projects.**


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